Poster Child
by Paxa.Romana
Summary: Gabriella's rising popularity at East High is driving Sharpay insane, and the drama queen has so much nerve as to involve her boyfriend in plotting the new girl's downfall, but the basketball hotshot has other plans for his secret love.
1. Fabulous

Poster Child

A (Revised) High School Musical Fanfiction by Desireé Lemmon

Setting: Albuquerque, New Mexico; Fall 2007

Disclaimer: I still have yet to claim the rights of this movie… Until then, I'm just a writer on fanfic.

Dedication: I dedicate this story to PinkJelly and LizzieRokasGermain, who acted very generously as the leaders of many reviews that encouraged me to give this story a second chance.

A/N: In this story, all events that happened in the movie sequel do not exist. Everything goes as planned by the movie makers up until 'Twinkle Towne,' and that's where my imagination comes in. :)

Chapter One, Fabulous

The sky was falling. The world was ending. A dark, luminous cloud was rolling across the earth, spreading like poison through the town to forever block the sunshine. At least, this was what was going on in the eyes of Sharpay Evans. "It's not fair!" she screamed in her room, tears flowing freely, in spite of the runny mascara collecting beneath her blond lashes. Mrs. Evans sat on the edge of her daughter's pink, round bed, fingering the small monograms of 'S.E.' on the comforter. In the center of the bed, Sharpay sat, sitting with her legs crossed the way your kindergarten teacher asked during reading time on the rug. She had rubbed her face so many times in the last hour that her metallic gold eye shadow had worn away to smudges on her palms. "How can I work so hard yet _she_ gets all the glory? It's not like she makes just as much of an effort as I do! It's always _me_ who does everything! _Me!_"

The bedroom door was open, and Sharpay's brother passed, popping Goldfish into his mouth like circus animals would. "Give it a rest, sis," Ryan sighed, pausing for a moment. "Your sobbing makes the house shake." She only screamed again and threw a coral star-shaped pillow at him, which he easily avoided by moving onto his room next door. Mrs. Evans sighed patiently and stood up, tugging on the hem of her pantsuit jacket.

"Sharpay, dear," she said, her voice eerily calm and even. Yoga breathing techniques had made Mrs. Evans quite tranquil in any given situation. "Daddy and I have to run. Mr. Gardner is having an exclusive opening to his new line of restaurants and there's a strict entry time. I'll call you when we're on our way home, all right? I left turkey wraps in the refrigerator for you and your brother. Hugs and kisses!" She blew air kisses and excused herself from the miserable sanctum, just as Sharpay burst into tears again. She was used to her parents leaving constantly for big budget Hollywood events, or fashionable red carpet shows that required an arm and leg for entry. However, this time, she just felt even more alone as she heard them drive off in Mr. Evans' Lexus, abandoning the empty household for the millionth time.

Tears had been a common thing for Sharpay lately. It was as if she was on a schedule, and they were programmed to promptly roll down her cheeks every afternoon. Somehow, it was always for a different reason. This particular meltdown was caused by the Devil herself: Gabriella Montez.

"I hate her!" the drama queen had screamed when she got home. Ryan dropped their bags near the front door and quietly slipped to the kitchen, letting his sister blow off steam on her own. "She's such a fake! Yet the world seems to _love_ her! What did I _possibly_ do to deserve such foul-play competition?" She swallowed the saliva that had collected in her angry mouth, remembering all of the girls whose tight leashes were always firmly in her possession. Now they all assembled around _that_ stupid girl, and she never treated them like they were inferior to her. She treated them as… _Friends_.

A flaw in Ryan's plan for avoiding his sister was this: he needed to get to his room, and in order to do this, he had to walk through the living room, where Sharpay was performing her pre-written rampage. (As if she actually said all these infuriated things on the spot.) Ryan knew she'd drag him into this if he even dare whimper past… "You don't think she's anything special, do you?"

He blinked and looked around. The blond boy hadn't realized he had drifted to the doorway between the kitchen and family room, where his sister could now visibly see him. She stood, impatiently, waiting for an answer. As she jutted her chin out as if to say 'Well?' Ryan cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable with this certain question. Gabriella wasn't horrible—he thought she could sing and she had been really nice to him whenever they had group projects in English class. But, of course, Sharpay wouldn't hear a single word of any kind. "No, I don't," he replied, trying to avoid any more interrogations.

Dissatisfied with this response, Sharpay scoffed and stomped a delicate foot on the plush white carpet. "Would you rather sing with me or her?" she asked, sniffling now. He resisted an eye roll, hoping with a few more reassurances, the episode would finally be over and Sharpay would return to her normal state: bossy and domineering.

"You, of course, Shar," he said in a 'duh' tone. "Why are you getting so worked up about it? What did she do _this_ time?"

Through her teeth, Sharpay recounted the bitter story, accenting the tale with grunts and the occasional screech. Gabriella had been chosen as the Role Model of the Month for the Albuquerque Youth Center, and the posters of her smiling, looking beautiful, would be printed next week and displayed all over town within a few days. "So?" Ryan had said, not recognizing the twist in Sharpay's face when she finished.

"_So_," she insisted crossly, "I've been replaced! I will no longer hold the title of AYC Role Model! Now I'm just a silly little rich girl! Money must be expressed in different ways, Ryan, and my monogrammed things and incredible stage talent can only go _so far!_ I must be the face of today's adolescence, rich and poor. Young girls have to look up to me and want my autograph and pictures and signed keepsakes! Ryan, look at is this way; you can get the autograph of a beautiful rich girl or you can get the autograph for the Photoshopped face of Albuquerque's youth."

This was a trick question, and he knew it. He was supposed to always side with her, yet in this case, her inquiry was to point out that no one would want her autograph without her face on the Cheer! Volunteer! Have a Good Year! poster. "Well," he began nervously, slightly raising an eyebrow, "Sharpay, you know I'd have your autograph over Gabriella's any day."

"That doesn't answer the question," Sharpay snapped, finishing with a dramatic sigh. He quickly tried to mend his words, but she interrupted. "I just can't believe she's… She's… _Popular!_" The last word was like a loud explosion, and she theatrically collapsed onto the sofa, directing her sobs into an innocent satin pillow.

There was an awkward pause in the room. Ryan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and back again, trying to think of a way to cheer his sister up. They were never seen without the other, yet he couldn't help but feel so distant from her at that moment. "Well, hey, Shar, you know you're still better than her," he said, and instantly regretted saying anything. No convincing tone lay in his voice.

"You have to say that," Sharpay moaned, finally rising from the sofa and stomping upstairs. "You're my brother!"

Now, in her bedroom, Sharpay tried to gain composure. "I am pretty, I am popular, I am fabulous," she said, and recited the phrases again like a spelling bee's toughest word, easiest for the most intelligent contestant there. She reached for her Strawberry LG Chocolate phone on her nightstand and immediately dialed her boyfriend.

"Hello?" he asked, sounding as if he had just woken up.

"Baby, it's me," Sharpay whined. "Do you love me?"

"What?" He sounded startled. "Of—of course I do, honey! Why would you ask that?"

She whimpered into a stuffed fuchsia teddy bear before elaborating. "She just got named Albuquerque's new face of youth! I am supposed to be that face. _Me_. I've been that face for the last three years. You know what they said to my publicity agent over the phone? They needed something fresh. Baby, am I fresh?"

There was a screech of sneakers and the pound of basketballs in the background. He was at practice. "Of course you are, Pay. Don't sweat it, you're going to get stress lines. I've gotta run, Coach is gonna kill me if I take any more time outs. I'll call you later, okay?"

Damn his other priorities. "Okay," she muttered. "I love you, Troy."

"I love you, too. Bye, Pay."


	2. Mirror Mirror on the Wall

A/N: For any faithful readers who saw Poster in its original days, I apologize the first two chapters are fairly unchanged. But the story will change very soon, I promise. -love- Desireé

LizzieRokasGermain- (Should I just call you Lizzie or something else? xD) Okay, I loved that one, too. And it was a scene! It makes me laugh. :)

Chapter Two, Mirror Mirror on the Wall

The cold vegetarian turkey wraps that Mrs. Evans had left for her son and daughter were dull and reminiscent of the very expensive vegan East High specials that weren't worth a dime. Ryan pleasantly smothered his wrap with mayonnaise and resided in front of the television, his feet extended along an ottoman. Sharpay tried to perk up and sat beside him, only to find he was watching something depressing: 'Law and Order.'

"Ugh, these police investigation shows are so ten years ago," she sneered, reaching for the remote. He blocked her with one hand and picked up the clicker in the other; she could feel how muscular her brother had become, and at that moment, she realized the world was moving on, making changes without her consent. Time waited for no one.

Nighttime had engulfed the sky by the next hour, and Sharpay felt her eyelids grow heavy. She wished she could drive away from everything at that moment, all her troubles remaining behind in Albuquerque. But, after a long day, she didn't have the strength to even speak. She murmured a good night to her brother, trudging up the stairs, her only comfort tomorrow's promise of Saturday. The round, monogrammed bed absorbed her agony as she slid under the covers, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander.

_At East High, Troy is finishing up basketball practice._

"Damn, Bolton, you never slip up, do you?" Chad laughed, clapping her best friend on the back. "Coach is gonna raise your allowance, hm?"

"Shut up," Troy said, wiping his brow as an excuse to cover the color rising in his cheeks. He still had yet to discover a job, and neither of his parents were happy about that. In the locker rooms, the boys hollered back and forth to one another, cheering that it was Friday. Even the weekend didn't seem to take away the pain of confusion burdening him. She had said it. Said those three very ill conceived words. And he, without a second though, had said them back.

Outside, he waited for his father in the parking lot. The next Envy phone Sharpay had given him for his birthday buzzed in his messenger bag. Another text from someone. He rummaged through his things as the Range Rover behind him honked. He glanced up and saw Jack Bolton coming from the main school building. "I sure hope your mother has cooked something big tonight. I'm starving," the man said as they piled into the car.

"Uh huh," Troy said, finally selecting the next text. It was from Chad. Sent time: 7:03pm. Are u ok man? U seemed kinda out of it earlier.

The response _should_ have been: No I'm not ok. Sharpay told me she loves me, and I told her I love her back. Shit. Instead, though, the response was: Yeah I'm fine. See u tomorrow at the picnic.

With that, Troy turned his phone off. He didn't want any more texts, pics, phone calls, or pages for the rest of the weekend. Jack noticed how quiet his son was and spoke up, "You all right? By the end of practice you seemed really… Angry." The word sounded awkward as he said it, as if he wasn't sure it was the right description for his son's particular mood.

The streetlights seemed to give an eerie glow to the sidewalks. Troy stared at them, wondering how he could have possibly gotten himself into this position: consulting his _father_. "I don't really know," he grumbled, rubbing his face. "The thing is… Sharpay told me she loved me. And I said—I said it back. Like _right away_. No doubt, no reluctance, nothing. I just said it. And now it's stuck out there forever."

As he turned onto another street, Jack thought about this. He sighed and knew what Troy was going through—every man went through in high school; it was a tendency of the male kind anyway to say something they don't mean. At least, this was how Mrs. Bolton saw it. "Well, I guess you just have to live with it for the time being," Jack finally said, giving into the only answer he could grasp. When Troy didn't reply, he added, "You're still thinking about Gabriella, aren't you?"

It was the truth. Ever since 'Twinkle Towne' he had been in love with her. But also ever since 'Twinkle Towne' she had never hated him more. Gabriella Montez had no interest in Troy Bolton, and it was all his fault.

They were at one of their first rehearsals, only weeks after the final roles were announced. There, they laughed and talked, waiting for Ms. Darbus to start barking orders. Most else was a blur, but Troy knew this: Sharpay had kissed him, and he had kissed her back. And they had an audience, by the name of Gabriella. She took very little time to express her frigid antipathy toward him afterward.

"Yes," Troy confessed, pressing his face against the cold window. Steams stuck to the glass as he exhaled, and he broke the condensation with his palm, his fingers drawn along the middle. "I keep thinking I should say that to her, not Sharpay."

It was too late for Jack to respond as his cell phone rang. Unlike his son, he kept his phone on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. This was what you got for being a high school basketball coach and avid part of the country club, evidently. "This is Jack Bolton," he said once he pressed the button of his Bluetooth. "Yes, mmhmm. No, not at all." These words usually began a long business talk that Jack seemed to have quite often, so Troy closed his eyes, yearning for some sleep.

The dream that swelled inside his head was so close to reality, but the Range Rover's halt in the driveway of the Bolton residence woke him up. He had been imagining walking down the street, and Gabriella stood at the end. She was within his reach, so close, yet the faster he walked, the longer the sidewalk extended. Space flourished between them until he couldn't see her at all. Sharpay appeared beside him and smiled, her hand in his as they turned the other way. He gulped as lips came to meet his, only seconds before his eyes opened. They were home.

"You going to be all right?" Jack asked as they walked inside.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Troy replied, hurrying upstairs with his bag, two steps at a time. Saturday was tomorrow. Saturday. The weekend couldn't have come more slowly.

_The next morning, Gabriella goes for a jog in the park near her house._

It felt good to be her. It _was_ good to be her. Everyone knew who Gabriella Montez was, if they were not personally involved with her. She was so active that year; student council, debate team, and, at one point, drama club. But she quit after 'Twinkle Towne,' once she decided she wasn't going to waste her time with something like theater, especially when people like Sharpay Evans and Troy Bolton were a part of it.

They sky was as blue as ever when she stepped outside. People were power walking with their iPods, strolling with in carriages, enjoying the early morning. She planned to be a part of this. "Good morning!" she called out to Mr. McGovern, his next door neighbor. The elderly man waved from his spot on the porch, and his dog Athena barked. Gabriella smiled and continued her jog down to the park, a few blocks away from her house.

Air filled her lungs, swelling in her chest like sweet water to her tongue. After a few minutes, she paused to lean down and retie her shoelace, just as an excruciatingly familiar face came into her line of vision. Mrs. Bolton, trotting with a friend. Please don't let her see me, please don't let her see me, the girl thought to herself. At that moment, she hated her hair. She wished it wasn't so long, so bushy, so dark, so recognizable. Lillian Bolton kept walking, though, her eyes nearly catching Gabriella's. But the woman waved past as if nothing had happened, and that's what the younger agreed to: ignorance.

A quality of pain was smothering Gabriella. She hated Troy, so much, yet at that moment she regretted screaming at him that day at practice, she regretted calling him an asshole, watching his face screw up in a panic as if he she had just struck him across his cheek. She also regretted telling him she absolutely hated him. At that point, she wanted to give up the role of Minnie, but Kelsi was desperate for her to stay. The composer's exact words had been: "If you don't do it, then Sharpay will. And Minnie isn't a blond bombshell at _all._"

For the sake of her friend and the play's sense, Gabriella continued. Rehearsals were the only times she was around Troy, and even then she completely ignored him. Taylor commented on how good of an actress she was, because the tension couldn't be felt from the audience. This was flattering, but Gabriella thought nothing of the compliment. She preferred math competitions and heated debates anyway.

The rest of the jog didn't clear her head as her morning runs normally did. If anything, it just clouded her thoughts even more as she wondered what Troy was doing at that moment. Probably sleeping. Probably dreaming of Sharpay. How she hated him for dating that awful person.

Gabriella's mother was cooking breakfast when she got back. Theresa Montez was a good parent, and she was close to her daughter. After watching her grow up for eighteen years, she could sense when there was trouble. "Eggs over easy?" she asked, nodding at the sizzling stove. Gabriella shrugged as she sighed, flopping onto the couch. "Something wrong, honey?"

"No" was her idle response. Theresa clucked her tongue and took a seat beside her daughter. Gabriella glanced at her. "What?"

"Something's bothering you, Gabi," her mother said gently. "I can tell, it's what I do. Talk to me. I'm your mother, I should be able to at least _try_ to help you. I have that right somewhere on your birth certificate, right?"

No, Gabriella thought. "I've just got a lot on my mind," she replied softly, picking at a runaway thread of the pillow she held.

"Have you thought about what you're going to wear to the barbecue today?" Theresa asked, running a hand along the couch's stitching. "You know, the community one that Barbie winger is hosting?"

Barbie Winger. Her real name was Barbara, but the nickname fit: she was tall, blond, and skinny, with a plastic smile and some enhanced body parts. Her daughter, Daisy, was a miniature version of her and Gabriella dreaded being around the cheerleader. The Wingers were trouble, yet Barbie was the head of the neighborhood council. Her husband was a producer and usually was on location, so it was just Barbie, Daisy, and the two younger twins, their names a mystery and their voices seldom here. "Do I have to go?" Gabriella moaned, rolling over to stuff her face into the arm of the couch.

"Yes, you do," Theresa said with a sweet smile. "And besides, it'll give you the chance to get to know Daisy a little better. She's transferring to East High next week, did you know?"

Another moan formed in Gabriella's lungs and she released it carelessly. Theresa pursed her lips as her daughter sat up, staring into her eyes. "Are you freaking serious?" she asked, her eyebrows knitted together in anger. "Mom, it's one thing to have to see the Wingers in these neighborhood events, but to have to go with Daisy? That's going to be _hell_."

"Watch the language," Theresa said firmly, and Gabriella bit her lip, sinking into the sofa. "Now, perk up and put on that smile I love. Troy will be there." The last comment was a low, soft whisper that could pass for a breeze outside.

Gabriella glared at her mother. "Don't mention that imbecile's name ever again," she growled, earning a surprised look from the woman in front of her. "I hate him, every single fiber in his body. If he died tomorrow, I wouldn't care." This was a lie.

"Gabriella Anna Montez!" Theresa looked shocked. "He's a sweet boy and his parents are very nice people. Besides—a month ago, you were his best friend." It didn't cross Theresa's mind that while her daughter kept the dramatic episode silent and mostly avoided the subject, the woman could have easily gone to East High and asked around. Any student would have an answer similar to the last: Troy kissed Sharpay, vice versa, something along the lines of that.

"Well, I still hate him," Gabriella replied, making a face. She stood up. "I'll go, but I promise you that won't enjoy it." Theresa smiled in a triumph and returned to the kitchen.

The floor-length mirror in Gabriella's room reminded her of the one in Snow White, the one the queen asked for advice. "Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" she asked, observing her matted hair and worn expression.

She could have put money on the table that, somewhere, the name 'Sharpay Evans' was whispered in an evil, cackling tone.

A/N: Glad you're reading Poster; I'm happy with its revision so far. If you haven't already, check out my other stories:

-Don't Come Knocking at My Door; this is my very first fanfiction, so it's a little rough, and the ending isn't fabulous, but it's likeable enough.

-Footprints in the Sand; I had really fun writing this one, and the entire gang is included (with the exception of Martha).

-I Will Follow You Into the Dark; this was originally a twoshot based off the Death Cab for Cutie lyrics, but I eventually found myself adding a bittersweet alternate ending of which I am quite proud.

-Wishful Thinking and Thoughtful Wishing; I liked this one, and it's Poster's successor/substitute. It's also one of my first attempts at writing the gang in high school.

-Friday Afternoons Aren't Meant for Detention; this has some Chadpay in it, which is my new obsession. I'm hooked on it. Anyway, this isn't my best work, but it's a fun fiveshot.

-The Trapeze Swinger; a oneshot, based on the Iron & Wine lyrics. Quite angsty again.

So glance over them, review them, critique them, whatever you feel is necessary! Hope you are liking Poster Child—I know so far these chapters haven't differed much from the originals, but the story shall change paths very soon. -love- Desireé


	3. Don't Stand So Close to Me

A/N: Here's the third chapter! Reviews are much appreciated—every one, even if it's two words, four words, or eight words. I don't mind, so long as I know what you think about the story. Okay, on another topic, I need a vote: who likes the oneshots/number-shots I've done? I'm in a depressed-ish mood and I've just downloaded a ton of sad songs that have inspired me. But only if they're liked. Be honest! -love- Desireé

Chapter Three, Don't Stand So Close to Me

The picnic was at the same park that Gabriella had jogged past earlier that morning. The Winger family floated by the Welcome Table, Barbie meeting and greeting people while Daisy hung back, leaning against a broad oak tree. "Hey, Montez," the strawberry blonde said with a lethargic smile as Gabriella walked beside her mother.

"Hi, Daisy," Gabriella replied with a courteous smile. She silently praised Daisy wouldn't be hanging around her for the rest of the afternoon.

"So, I heard you're the new AYC Role Model." The girl was about as tall as Gabriella, but with bright green eyes that mesmerized, and shorter hair, today done up in a finger wave.

"Yeah," Gabriella said softly, staring a the ground. She wished for an excuse to walk away—her mother was now engaged in a discussion with one of the community women that, like herself, drove soccer mom minivans and cooked dinner-table meals every day. "I am."

A grin spread across Daisy's face. "So, who do you think is gonna be the first guy to ask you out?" she inquired, twirling a lock of yellow hair around her typically extended middle finger. "I saw Henry Deacon. He's had his eye on you for a while now." This, in Gabriella's opinion, was not a compliment whatsoever; Henry, to put it mildly, was an anime enthusiast and probably would have the world drawn like "Naruto" characters had he the choice. Not to mention his laugh was similar to a donkey's hee-haw.

Something about the twinkle in Daisy's eyes told Gabriella not to respond. Just stay calm, cool, and collected, she thought firmly. "Well," she began after a moment, "who knows? It's only September. I'll see you around, Daisy."

"Yeah, see you around, Montez," the other replied as Gabriella drifted toward the three-legged race, discovering a forced interest in the father-daughter competition. She never had a dad to play games with her, but she didn't care very much any more. You learn to get over things as the years pass.

Daisy looked at her mother; Barbie was telling a stout gray-haired woman about the new condominiums being built somewhere in the center of town. The conversation grew to bore Daisy soon and she glanced toward the street. Rows and rows of cars were parked, one freshly positioned near the corner. It was the Evans' Mercedes.

Sharpay and Ryan Evans never seemed to be one without the other; like peanut butter and jelly, Daisy thought, or perhaps like Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton. It was entertaining to think who would be Nicole and who would be Paris until the Evans twins appeared before her. "Daisy Winger," Sharpay said grandly, smiling at the familiar face. "Long time no catfight, hm?"

The pearly white teeth lined in Daisy's mouth glistened in the sunlight. "I guess not, Evans," she remarked softly, her smile reducing to her a smirk. "But old habits die hard, I'm sure."

The fight of Sharpay and Daisy was mysterious and mostly under wraps, however it was clear their quarrel had blossomed into some sort of friendship. "Guess what?" Daisy said smoothly, tugging on the same lock of hair. "I'm switching schools. I'll be an East High Wildcat this time next week!" Although it was an exclamation, the laidback girl managed to seem careless.

"Really?" Sharpay squealed. "We'll be the best of friends! I was always so upset how your being a Knight put a rift between us over the last few years." She held up her hands to admire a recent manicure and Daisy casually oohed as Ryan rolled his eyes. He glimpsed around the park, observing the people. Chad Danforth and Jason Cross were tossing a basketball back and forth while Taylor McKessie and Kelsi Nielsen looked on. A girl whose name Ryan remembered was Martha soon joined them, with Zeke Baylor only moments behind her. They all laughed at a joke Chad told for a moment, and it made the Evans boy jealous. After a school career of catering to his sister and spending hours after hours of rehearsal with the drama club, friends seemed too far away.

The Bolton Range Rover parked on the far side of the picnic, Troy slumped in the backseat. His sister April sat beside him, listening to her blue iPod nano that matched her sapphire hair. Their parents were talking about something that involved the words 'family reunion' and 'second cousins' but he didn't listen much otherwise. "Guys?" Lillian asked, turning around to see her daughter playing Solitaire and her son staring out the window wistfully. "Come on, we can't enjoy the party from in here." Jack smiled at his wife as he opened his door, and Troy and April followed suit. The foursome walked toward the inner circle of the park, and Troy wondered where she would be. He knew she was around here _somewhere_.

Gabriella now watched the egg toss, yolk splattering on the unlucky catchers, some small kids bursting into tears and running to their parents for comfort. She wished agony was that easy; get splashed with something sticky, start to cry, and hurry to your mom or dad who will make it all better. She wished her mom could have made it all better that morning. Theresa knew her daughter loathed Troy Bolton, but the woman, having never experienced it herself, had no idea how to fix such a thing as heartbreak.

"Yo, Bolton!" Jason yelled when he spotted Troy. "What took you so long? We were all starting to think you were dead, man."

I am dead, Troy thought weakly. He put on a smile and took seat next to Zeke, mumbling hello to everyone as the conversation of Ms. Darbus' hair fiasco (too much platinum blond dye applied to one side of the head). "She looks like Cruella de Vil!"

"She is Cruella de Vil," Kelsi put in with a giggle. "Just a little louder and a little crazier, and instead of puppies, she craves drama queens." Everyone snickered and looked in the direction of the Evans twins, while Troy subtly glanced in the opposite direction. The girl looked particularly beautiful that day, with her hair up in a bun and dark round sunglasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. She was smiling, but not like he remembered. The happiness in her face wasn't visible, and he wished he could be next to her, holding her hand and watching her face light up. Chad watched him for a moment and cocked an eyebrow.

"So, Taylor," he began, looking at his girlfriend. "I don't see Gabriella anywhere. You want to go find her? She's part of your crowd, she's part of ours." Taylor grinned affectionately and kissed him with a delicate smile as she stood up, motioning to Kelsi and Martha to follow her.

The boys hollered as soon as the girls were out of earshot. "You're in love!" Chad yelled. "You better not let Sharpay the Ice Queen know; she'll have you tossed in a blender and thrown to the lions without any remorse." He grinned as Jason laughed.

Looking bashful, Zeke said, "If you do tell Sharpay, it won't be all that bad. I'll gladly take her off your hands for you." He smiled tenderly, as Chad and Jason made gagging noises. Troy winced and wondered where the blonde was at the moment; he looked around and finally saw her, standing next to the Winger girl. What was her name? It was a flower. Lily? No, that wasn't it. Daphne? Nope, not that either. Daisy? Daisy! That was her name.

"Daisy," he mumbled, standing up and brushing off some dirt on his jeans. He glanced back and saw Taylor talking to Gabriella, who looked in the boys' direction for a moment before hurriedly turning away. Coincidentally, Sharpay found him and she called out his name in a 'yoo-hoo!' voice, waving as she hurried over to her beau, a laughing Daisy hot on her heels.

"Honey!" Sharpay exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're here. I sent you a text message, didn't you get it? On your new _Envy phone_." She said the words as a whisper into his ear, smiling seductively.

His phone remained off from the previous night, a hope stirring in his head that all possible communication would be shut off. Of course, there was always personal contact. "No, I—well, I'm here now, right?"

"Right," she replied, sneaking a kiss before turning to Daisy and nodding. "This is Troy, my boyfriend. Troy, this is Daisy Winger. She's going to be going to school with us next week, you know that? I'm super excited, there's going to be so much to do together!" She kissed him again, and he stifled a moan, which she took as a good thing. Nearby, Chad coughed as he stood up, sending Troy a_ good luck_ raise of the eyebrows. Jason and Zeke followed, the latter giving one last glance at Sharpay before disappearing with his friends across the park.

"So, Bolton," Daisy said, her lips playing a cool smile. "How's basketball going? Evans tells me you play a real good game."

Wrapping her arms around Troy, Sharpay insisted, "Better than good. He's just perfect in every way." He faked a smile and kissed her forehead, sweetly untangling himself from her grip.

"Listen, Pay," he said, "I have to go. My parents need me to help out or something like that. I'll call you later, okay?" For good measure, he added, "On my new Envy phone."

The fruity watermelon scent of her lip gloss wafted in his nostrils as she drew closer. "Okay, honey," she whispered, laying her mouth on his one last time. "On your new Envy phone." She smiled. "Maybe you can come over tonight, okay? We'll play games and watch movies." The sultry tone in her voice ran chills down his spine, but not in a good way.

"Uh huh," he said, slipping away from her kiss. "Talk to you later, okay? Nice meeting you." Before Daisy could reply or Sharpay could interject, Troy was gone. He strode across the park, dodging tottering babies and dancing children as he finally stopped beside Kelsi. Gabriella looked irked to see him so close.

Taylor forced a surprised smile. "Look who it is!" she gasped. "Troy, I'm glad you're here. The whole gang's back together. We haven't all hung out since…" Her voice died away to a nervous stutter.

"Since 'Twinkle Towne,'" Gabriella finished, raising her sunglasses so they were perched on top of her head. "It certainly has been a while."

Sensing danger, Martha and Kelsi disappeared with the rest of the crowd, leaving the boy and other two girls to uneasily glance at each other. "So, have you seen Ms. Darbus' new hairstyle?" Taylor asked in an effort to get either one of the two to speak. "That's like the complete opposite of what you should do. Maybe she could get a job on 'What Not to Wear' as an example! Her work would be much more appreciated than it is here." The lame quality in her voice was noticeable.

The space between Troy and Gabriella was small enough that he could count the freckles on her face. He had been closer than this before, but there was a big difference now. He saw every eyelash, every speck of caramel in her chocolate brown eyes. She could smell the toothpaste he had used that morning, and he could see the bobby pins in her hair that held loose strands of black. It was as if the few centimeters between them shouldn't have been there at all. He wanted to kiss her.

"Well, I should probably get going," Gabriella finally spoke, clearing her throat and taking a step to the left so Troy was now gaping at air.

"Why?" Taylor asked, glancing at her wristwatch. "You just got here. The picnic just barely began."

"Yeah, well, I have to pick up Rory and Natasha anyway," her friend replied, knocking her sunglasses back down to cover her eyes.

"Rory and Natasha?" Troy looked confused.

As if this was so evident, Gabriella explained impatiently, "It's the youth center's little siblings program. I got into it a couple months ago. Older kids volunteer to hang out with younger kids who don't have the best home situations or parenting experiences. Less fortunate children, that kind of thing. I have a brother and sister, I thought I could handle double." She shrugged and turned to Taylor. "We'll do lunch some time, okay? I've been so packed this summer we barely had any time to hang out. Tomorrow, brunch? I'll call you." She hugged her friend and grinned before formally nodding at Troy and turning on her heel. She knew her mother wouldn't let her drive, so Gabriella braced herself for the long walk ahead.

It bewildered Troy how he could have ever gone from being Gabriella's best friend to the most despicable thing in her eyes. Taylor turned to him and smiled sympathetically. "You've got your work cut out for you, Bolton," she sighed, patting his shoulder.

"Please," he asked, swallowing back the regret building up inside him, "don't tell me that." He was reminded every day by the memory of their broken friendship.

A/N: As you can see, I liked April (a character first introduced in Wishful) so much I inserted her into Poster. She won't have a huge impact this time around, but her importance is evident some time a few chapters from now. -love- Desireé


	4. One Way or Another

A/N: Okay, I've just now realized all my stories (with the exception of Knocking) have original characters, and obviously it has irked someone. I just want to know if it bothers any of you—in this story, since Troy is on the fence of the war, Sharpay needs to have another ally, who I made to be the original Daisy. Do my made-up characters vex anyone else? -hesitantly- Desireé

Chapter Four, One Way or Another

Hours after the picnic, Sharpay sat, sprawled across her bed, staring up at the wall in a tantrum of anger. Mrs. Evans had skipped this particular scene, opting for a dinner with the Clarks, whoever they were. The blond girl didn't care anymore; it wasn't as if she needed her mother _specifically_. Just someone to listen to her and sympathize her would be perfectly acceptable. Ryan had shut himself away in his room, playing some silly video game one of the other drama clubbers had mentioned some time in the last week. Sharpay wondered if their housekeeper, Marina, was still around; perhaps she could learn some curse words in Spanish to take the woe off her mind. She walked downstairs, looking around for the kindly-looking woman. But she was gone, too. "Why has everyone deserted me?" the girl muttered to herself.

The tune to Fergie's 'Glamorous' came from another room, and Sharpay ran to get her phone. The number was unknown, a seven digit sequence that seemed to captivate her for a minute. She finally slid open the strawberry Chocolate and answered in the most poised voice she could possibly manage, "Hello?"

"Evans, it's Daisy," came a flat, feathery voice on the other line. "What's up?"

It felt good to talk to someone who didn't already have a biased view. Sharpay knew Daisy could be brutally honest without a second thought, and that's what she needed at the moment. "Ugh, I saw Troy talking to this tramp girl from our school at the picnic. They used to be really close but…" She stopped, thinking about the relationship her boyfriend once had with Gabriella. A sharp, guilty feeling jabbed at her insides and then it was gone. For one moment, she had actually felt sorry for ruining what Troy and Gabriella once shared, and it scared her.

"Oh, the black-haired chick? Montez?" Daisy asked, smacking her gum. "I know her. I saw her walking away from him when I went to go get a hot dog. Our moms are pretty tight. She's kind of… Bland, though. Not enough flavor."

Finally, someone was on the drama queen's side. "I know!" Sharpay exclaimed excitedly, trying to contain her delight. "I shouldn't be worried that Troy likes her, should I? I mean, it's Gabriella we're talking about. What does she have that don't?" She couldn't help but hear a symphony of different answers ring inside her head as she asked this. _Honesty. Morality. Happiness._ A shiver sliced through her back as she shook the thoughts away.

_Pop_. Daisy smacked her gum again. "Why are you so worried about it?" she asked. "I mean, Troy's your boy, right? So what's the problem?"

The day had been quite a haze when the bond between Gabriella and Troy broke in half, shattering into a million pieces that would be sprinkled across the earth with no hope to be recovered. Sharpay remembered what she heard at her locker that afternoon. Kelsi and the girl named Taylor had been talking, Taylor feverishly explaining something. "He's going to ask her!" she squealed. "Chad told me—he's going to ask her to go steady with him!" At this, the blonde girl's heart dropped.

Shuffling through her bag, Kelsi asked, "They haven't kissed or anything yet?"

"No, not yet," Taylor said with a snicker, "but after this, I think I can come up with a pretty accurate theory of just what they'll do." Kelsi laughed and they walked away, leaving Sharpay to fight back tears at her lollipop pink locker. She stared at the mirror positioned perfectly in front of her face, watching the red splotches appear. This was why she hated crying. The dots and streaks of pink around her eyes and on her nose whispered secrets to anyone who saw her in the aftermath of tears.

After washing her face in the bathroom, she promenaded proudly down to the auditorium. Ms. Darbus hadn't spoken to her much after the roles were announced; it seemed that without the title of Minnie, Sharpay was nothing to the drama teacher. The broad blond woman stood at her desk, speaking to a props boy about something that had to do with new paint jobs. "Sharpay Evans!" she exclaimed when she saw the girl coming toward her.

"Hello, Ms. Darbus," Sharpay greeted her, masking her grief. "It's been so long since we've had the pleasure of working together. H-how's the play going?"

"Oh, just marvelous. Your brother and you were very good, but I think it's nice to have a little variety—Troy and Gabriella are just spectacular!" the teacher replied, clasping her hands. This was the boiling point for Sharpay. She clenched her fists, gritting her teeth in an attempt not to tell Ms. Darbus to go to hell. Her attitude around adults had changed quite drastically over the recent month.

"Don't I know it," she said, bearing a smile. "I actually came to congratulate them. Do you know where they are?" So perhaps she had manipulated the truth, but it wasn't as if Ms. Darbus would care.

A long, purple fingernail extended, Ms. Darbus pointed to the hallway off to the side of the stage that lead to the dressing rooms. "Thank you," Sharpay said sweetly, walking off in the very direction of her diabolical scheme. She went over the plan in her head. Seduce Troy Bolton, she thought. Seduce Troy Bolton.

From a distance, he was cute. But up close, he was beautiful. She had studied him for years, ever since the seventh grade when she started growing an interest in boys. It was a big campus, with people who would eventually crown her their queen. At one point, he was her friend. They hung out through junior high like they had known each other forever, talking and laughing about things they would have never pondered otherwise. She wondered when their friendship had turned sour and he chose Gabriella over her.

They had been sitting on a bench, their backs against the wall, holding their own separate lyrics. Sharpay stood in the doorway, watching as her eyes began to painfully sting with tears. She wanted to sing with _him_. Ryan was a good partner and all, but they butted heads more often than not and your brother could not be annoying for only so long. Soon, Gabriella stopped and stood up. She said something that sounded like "I'm going to go get a snack" and left the room, exiting on the other side. Sharpay found her prize opportunity and took advantage of the moment.

She walked toward him, in a straight line like she was balancing on a tightrope. "Sharpay?" he asked, confused as their eyes met. Somehow, she brought him to his feet. "What are you—"

"Shh," she silenced him, putting a finger to his sweet, firm lips. "Don't speak." And soon, the space between them closed up and she let her tongue slide along the inside of his mouth. It was working—she could have kissed him then and there had she not been doing so already. He was actually kissing her back. Troy Bolton was kissing Sharpay Evans, and she was taking in every moment.

Someone cleared their throat, glass shattered, and Sharpay could feel her muscles weaken, her knees giving out as she collapsed against his body, her hands hooking onto his shoulders for support. She heard the clacking of heels, and saw Ms. Darbus walking toward them, looking annoyed. "I understand today's youth has creative ways of congratulating one another, but you should no better than to publicly display affection, Sharpay." Troy looked past the teacher, and saw a cracked Gabriella standing in the very doorway Sharpay had, watching them with such disgust that the drama queen nearly regretted her actions. But there was no time to reconsider as Troy nudged her off of him and rushed after a now stormy Gabriella.

"Brie," he called out, his voice barely above a whisper. Sharpay was surprised, kneeling on the bench, her forehead against the wall. She had dated a lot of guys, and definitely shared at least one kiss with all of them. But this one was different—the spark for which she had searched since the tenth grade had gone off when her lips pressed against Troy's. And now he was smudging that spark, making sure it didn't burst into a flame.

Ms. Darbus clicked her tongue. "Get away from me," Gabriella sneered, and Sharpay heard her feet crunch against the broken glass on the ground. Troy followed, the shards splintering beneath his shoes. "Just get the _hell_ away from me."

There was guilt again welling inside Sharpay as Daisy's voice came through the phone. "So what's the problem?" she repeated. It seemed as if only one breath took the words that Sharpay confessed—her sabotage of the relationship between Troy and Gabriella, her less than civil tactic to get him to love her, the success she had when they finally became an official item. A miracle saw to it that she didn't burst into tears after telling Daisy everything.

The girl whistled. "That's a mouthful," she said, and Sharpay heard another pop of bubble gum. "So you're afraid he's still into her?"

"Yes," the drama queen choked. "I just wish there was some way to prove to me he didn't love her. And a way to back at her for being so awfully flawless and classic." An idea formed in her head to which Daisy responded with incredible fuel. "We'll destroy her," Sharpay gasped, "We'll tap into her head, find out just what it is that makes her tick, and we'll break her heart."

After a quick moment of chewing, Daisy replied, "I'm in. This is a delicate operation that has to start strongly. And I know just how to do it."

They talked for another hour, deciding and idealizing and perfecting the plan that would ruin Gabriella Montez.

A/N: As you see, the story is beginning to unfold. Another chapter should be up this weekend. _Please_ review! -love- Desireé


	5. Why Can't We Be Friends

A/N: Aww, thanks guys for your responses. Sometimes I get a little anxious about my writing. This should be the last chapter until Sunday—I've got a very tight agenda for the next two days. Bleh. I'm not a fan of babysitting. But I'm a fan of all of you! Thank you so much. -love- Desireé

emsine- Ah, I understand. April is the made-up sister of Troy, who has a very big role in one of my other stories. Here, she's quite minimal, actually, but I decided to stick her in because she got great positive feedback when first introduced.

Chapter Five, Why Can't We Be Friends

Normally, and at such an early hour of the morning, Troy would have ignored the urgent flash of _Sharpay_ across his cell phone's screen and the irritating ring of 'Bop to the Top,' courtesy of the Evans twins, but for some reason, he answered this time. And then the shrieks came.

"Where. Have. You. Been." Each word was a sharp burst of air, coming like the blasts of a high-pitched whistle. "I have been worrying for the past nine hours, trying to get a hold of you, and let me tell you, Troy Bolton, I can't worry! I'll get stress lines!"

He sat up, rubbing his eyes before glancing at the clock. The large red digits blurry for a second, and he squinted: 'way too early' they read. "I'm sorry, Pay. I was really tired, it was a long day."

The person on the other end harrumphed. "Well!" the blonde said briskly. "I would say so. You must have been just fried after chatting up that skank yesterday. How could you?" Her snivels were almost worse than her howling. "Troy, you know I'm very sensitive about that stupid harlot." He winced at her harsh words. "Please tell me you were obligated to talk to you." The tone of her voice made it evident this was an order, not a request.

"I was obligated to talk to you," he mumbled, trying to pass off his doubt as fatigue. Sharpay whined and Troy cleared his throat. "Oh, come on, Pay. You know you're—you know you're my baby doll, okay?" He bit his lower lip, staring out the window. To his surprise, the world was actually awake at this ungodly hour. People rose before seven. Huh. You learn something new everyday.

Relaxation seeped through Sharpay's words. "Well, okay," she finally said, sighing as if this was all one heavy weight off her shoulders. He hoped this would be the end of her tirade, but she continued with the most horrifying news of all: "I was trying to call you last night because I actually have some plans for Gab—the girl. I have some plans for her. Daisy's a part of it, too."

"Part of what?" The hours spent asleep by Troy were useless; Gabriella had filled his dreams. Because of this, he was still quite tired.

"The _plans!_" Sharpay replied irritably. "Troy, honey, I understand it's early, but for the love of theater, listen. Now, it seems so unfair to me and the rest of the world that Gabriella gets everything, right? I mean, she's much too popular for a girl of her original social status. How would she like it if I just went behind her back and stole all of her precious, very well-earned fame? I can't believe AYC actually picked her for their Role Model. Doesn't anyone have taste these days?" She sighed dramatically. "Anyway, Troy, you play a very important part in this plan of ours."

A nervous feeling was bubbling inside Troy as his girlfriend continued, revealing the blueprints of an evil mastermind's work.

_Meanwhile, Daisy calls Gabriella as casually as possible._

"Hello?" Gabriella answered her home phone lazily, looking through last month's issue the Oprah magazine.

"Montez, it's Daisy."

Daisy. Ugh. If only she saw the look on Gabriella's face. "Oh, hi," she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "What's up?"

"Do you like someone right now?" the girl asked curiously. Gabriella could picture her wrapping a lock of hair around her finger again.

There was a short interlude of breathing. "Um, I guess. Why?"

A soft giggle slipped through the phone line, but it sounded too bubbly to come from Daisy's lips. "Oh, well, I just wondered if you wanted to play 20 Questions or something. I'm majorly bored right now and bet myself I could guess who your crush was," she offered, her voice monotone.

"Are you going anywhere with this, Daisy?"

"Oh, come on. I need something fun to do." Another giggle. Gabriella still couldn't imagine that was Daisy's laugh. She imagined something more like a low sputter of hysteria, spilling out before the girl could realize what she had done. "Is it a guy I know?"

"Yes," Gabriella admitted, biting down on her thumbnail. She couldn't help herself. No one, not even Taylor, knew she still had an inkling of emotion left for Troy, other than hate.

"Is he cute?"

"That's subjective."

The giggle expected was replaced by a sigh. "Fine. Do _you_ think he's cute?"

"Duh." Gabriella's hand flew to her mouth. Had she just answered that?

A machine beeped and what sounded like a microwave door opened in the background. Daisy hummed in thought. "Is it someone on the basketball team?"

Gabriella's stomach dropped. She knew. "Yes," she said, her voice barely audible. But Watch-Dog Daisy would hear it, of course.

"Is it… Troy Bolton?" Daisy asked, her voice dripping with excitement. She had paused for effect, but Gabriella knew it was only that.

Her silence only excited Daisy even more. "It is!" the girl cried; even her calls were dull and soporific. "Is it Troy, isn't it? Ha! I knew it. The way you looked at him today, I just knew it. Well, thanks. Bye." And she hung up. Oh God, Gabriella thought to herself, staring down at the magazine. The picture looked discolored and warped, as if her vision was failing. She shrugged it off, taking a breath, completely unaware of the satisfaction she just gave Sharpay Evans.

_Troy contemplates his girlfriend's words._

The plan was this: he would have to get closer to Gabriella. Not romantically, of course; Sharpay made sure he knew this. But he would have to befriend her again, slowly make his way back into her heart. He was supposed to get her to love him again, and as Sharpay told him this, he wondered if Gabriella had ever loved him at all. Their friendship would progress, blossoming like a flower in the springtime. And then he would just pull the strings that worked her like a puppet, and she would fall. He was supposed to break her heart; that was only the beginning.

It seemed like the perfect plan, all except for the heartache part. Troy hung up and closed his eyes again, his head pounding with complete enervation. He wondered if this moment would be remembered years from then—would his consent to Sharpay's scheme deeply affect him. It was only September, and that left an entire year before college. At one point, he had planned to go wherever Gabriella went. Suddenly, though, he was having that conversation with Sharpay. It should have been illegal to think about such stressful things so early in the morning.

When he asked what he was supposed to do in order to get Gabriella's forgiveness, Sharpay bluntly replied, "Use your imagination." She paused before adding, "I gotta go, baby. Call me later. Love you." She hung up before he responded, and he was grateful. Troy wasn't sure he could take another hit like that.

Sleep seemed like the sweetest thing at that point, so he rolled over to let the cool part of the pillow hit his skin, rubbing away the sadness that was beginning to develop in his face. Most guys wouldn't admit they actually felt real emotion about a girl, but Troy didn't care at that point. He loved Gabriella, and he had to get her to love him back, or at least talk to him again. He needed that, more than ever, and somehow, he had found the courage to admit it.


	6. Carry You Home

A/N: Whoo! The babysitting gig got cancelled so I had some free time this morning, and went on a little writing spree. Not sure if this is the last chapter of the weekend, but hopefully it's a suitable amount for a few days if anything. -love- Desireé

Chapter Six, Carry You Home

Come Monday, Gabriella found herself glaring at Troy Bolton, who was standing at her locker, holding a bouquet of flowers. She felt her feet drag along the hallway floors as she made her way toward him, about to speak when a strong, perfume-like fragrant hit her smack in the face. "Oh, Jeezus, what do you want Troy?" she asked, nudging him aside so she could enter her combination lock. He looked wounded, like a swatted dog.

"Gabriella," he said pleadingly. To hear her name from his lips made her shiver, but she passed it off as a sleepy stretch. "I want to make peace between us, if all else has failed. Over the summer, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I felt like I had been such a horrible friend that—"

She glanced at him with a lifeless wonder. "That you ended up with Sharpay Evans, and I blended in with the crowd here. I know, Troy," she said with a mock sympathetic tone, "You're weepy about being with her, even though it makes sense: the Golden Boy with the Golden Girl. Basketball hotshot—" here it was his turn to get the chills "—loves drama queen. Simple as that. We're both smart people, we can do the math." The last book dropping into her bag, Gabriella closed her locker and walked away, just as Chad passed her and stopped beside his friend.

"Dude, you okay?" he asked. Troy dropped the flowers (they were white lilies) before they headed toward their next class. For a moment, he was silent, and Chad waited.

"Sharpay broke up with me."

_The gossip spreads, again, like wildfire._

The whole school was buzzing with the news. Taylor plopped down in a seat beside Gabriella in the library, peering at her friend's history homework. "Copycat," Gabriella teased, pretending to crouch over her writing. Taylor smiled.

"Have you heard?" she asked.

"Heard what?"

Either Gabriella was playing dumb or she really didn't know, but Taylor didn't mind either way. "Sharpay broke up with Troy. They're officially two onesomes now," she said in a low whisper. "Unless the rumor that she's getting cozy with Brendan Wicker is true. But basically: Troy's single."

The hum of the computers nearby seemed especially loud as Gabriella looked up, staring ahead at the end of a bookshelf. World Encyclopedias, A-L, it read on one side. She wondered if there was a page or two dedicated to love and all its complications somewhere in there. "What does that have to do with me?" she asked innocently, gritting her teeth in an attempt to seem annoyed, but honestly, she was just nervous.

"You are kidding me," Taylor said, resting her chin on her hand. "Gabriella, you can't hide it anymore. I know you're still into him. I mean—he's the Golden Boy. What's not to love?" Here, Taylor was going against her own standards, which mostly ruled against Troy Bolton, but she wanted to see if her friend would cave.

"Everything," Gabriella snapped, standing up and shuffling her books together. "I'll see you after school." She marched out of the library, leaving Taylor to roll her eyes and, again, go against her own standards by reaching for her cell phone during school hours and sending Kelsi a text message. Have u heard?

Yes, what did G say? came the reply.

Denied it. So lying. I'll talk 2 her later.

Ok. g2g I have to practice with Sharpay. Gag me.

Gladly. :)

_As the plan of Sharpay and Daisy snaps into action, Troy is beginning to panic._

"She hates me," he moaned, banging his head against the lunch room table. Chad sat next to him, drawing on his hamburger with small mustard and ketchup packets. The rest of the team knew their captain's mood: it meant stay away. So ten other guys crammed onto a table nearby, all glancing over every few seconds to see if they were welcomed back. Not yet.

Troy looked around. Sharpay was at her usual spot, eating with the drama club a very dainty vegan special. She glanced over at him, and their eyes locked. Checking to see if anyone was watching, she winked at him. A girl next to her, Yuri or something, poked her shoulder and asked a question. The blonde shrugged and went back to her lunch quite innocently. "Actress," Troy mumbled. Chad finished his masterpiece before smearing it with the bun.

"So, let me get this straight," he said, taking a bite into the burger. "Shabay and Dayze haff a plan and yurh sposed to geh Gabiella to fogib you?" His mouth, stuffed with cafeteria food, made it hard to understand for any other person, but Troy knew what he was saying and he didn't mind the fuzzy communication. With his luck and East High's walls-with-ears, everyone would know about the fake break up between him and Sharpay had Chad not been eating.

With a nod, the proclaimed Golden Boy looked at the other cliques. It seemed there had been a frenzy of self-possession and freedom the year before, when the homework club loved hip hop and the skater club enjoyed opera. Now, things were back to normal, where the gothic kids only wore black and the basketball team had nothing to do with crème brûlée, or anything remotely buttery and sweet. "Hey, have you ever actually tried crème brûlée?" Troy asked Chad, who nearly choked on one of the pickles.

The bushy-haired slacker raised an eyebrow. "_What?_" he sputtered. "Troy, we've been over this already. You're tripping out a lot lately. Why don't you go to the nurse's office and tell her you're sick? It wouldn't be too far from a lie."

Grimacing, Troy looked down at the empty Naked Juice bottle in front of him. Sharpay insisted on the first day of school he should diet during the day with big breakfasts and dinners, and it seemed he couldn't break the habit in spite of the faux divorce. "Crème brûlée _is_ good," he grumbled. "Sometimes you just have to give something the benefit of the doubt."

"Whatever," Chad replied, "Dude, you're pale and weak. This morning you came to school with this weird look on your face like you were gonna upchuck, and I can't blame you after drinking that crap, but jeez, Troy, it's not like you to skip out on Jason's invite to the pizzeria later today. You love deep dish, if I remember correctly."

The bell rang and students began to shuffle out. Troy shrugged and stood up, tossing the juice bottle in a nearby recycling bin. "I guess," he replied cheekily. "I love a lot of things. Or loved. Whatever."

_Gabriella faces Troy again in the student parking lot after school._

"Can I help you?" she asked artificial-sweetly as she pressed the unlock button on her keys, hearing her mother's Escape come to life. Troy smiled.

"What are you doing today?"

"Picking up Rory and Natasha. I assume you remember them."

He nodded, looking down at the asphalt beneath them. "Yeah, your little siblings. So, what, is it like a program or something?"

"AYC hosts it. I'm a little more personal with my family, since their grandparents are old friends of my mother's dad. The center has activities and stuff on the weekend. Usually I pick them up once or twice a week and we spend the afternoon together." She pursed her lips, wishing she hadn't just let the information slip away like that. It sounded as if she didn't mind telling him.

A sheepish grin spread across his lips. "So, is there a sign-up sheet or anything?" he inquired hopefully, glancing up to meet her incredulous stare.

"Oh, no, no, no," she said, shaking her head. "Troy, you are _not_ participating in this." She opened the car door and looked at him with an almost sorrowful glare. "You ruined things for me before, but this is the only thing that isn't tainted already. Please, don't change that." She pulled out of the parking space, making another notch in the totem pole that was Troy's pain.

_At the Montez house, Theresa is on the phone with Sue Bolton._

"Oh, definitely, it's a great course. It gives you a sense of parental instinct, and the kids of course are so grateful toward their older siblings," the woman spoke into the mouth piece. Gabriella walked through the door and glanced at her mother, mouthing _Who is it?_

_Sue Bolton_, Theresa mouthed back.

_Oh_, Gabriella replied. Her eyes widened suddenly and she said, _What does she want?_

_Just asking about the sibling program for Troy._

"No!" Gabriella shouted. Theresa squinted at her, covering the phone with her other hand for a moment.

"Gabriella, what's wrong?" she asked. "I thought that Troy would like the AYC gig, too—"

"_No_," her daughter insisted. "Mom, he is _not_ doing that. I have to see him eighty percent of my time already, he cannot tarnish what I have left."

Shaking her head, Theresa turned away once she said, "Don't be ridiculous, Gabriella. You act as if you're a poor little ragamuffin and have nothing in this world."

It's the truth, the dark-haired girl said sadly to herself. She trekked up the stairs, wondering if she could shake the earth with the heavy, dejected steps she took.


	7. Nothing Left to Lose

A/N: I didn't particularly love this outcome, but hopefully you gives will like the chapter. -love- Desireé

Chapter Seven, Nothing Left to Lose

The Trace family was by no means royal, a unit consisting of four children, their overworked mother, and two grandparents, Nana and Grandpa Stanley. They were tucked away on the edge of Albuquerque, in a two-bedroom, second story loft that had seen better days. Their mother, Cecil, had two jobs and a determined mindset that usually couldn't be broken. Gabriella, however, had witnessed her rare breakdowns, around which time she took Rory and Natasha out for the afternoon.

The older of the two, Rory was an intelligent and somewhat cynical twelve-year-old. He had an uncanny resemblance to Troy, which had irked Gabriella in the last few days, especially every time he looked up at her with innocent blue eyes. Natasha had a thousand different clothing styles and a witty mouth, so along with her brother, they made an interesting pair. They were, in all reality, her last untainted things left in the world.

"Can we go see a movie?" Rory asked from the shotgun seat of Theresa's Escape. He was rummaging through his backpack for something. Gabriella had picked them up only minutes earlier after she sulked in her bedroom for an hour. She stopped at a red light and glanced at him.

"Do you have homework?"

"What would you tell me if I said no?"

"That you're lying," murmured a backseat Natasha with a snort. Rory grimaced at her and the ten-year-old faked a smile.

A smile danced along Gabriella's lips. "I have to stop back at the house for a moment," she said, "but if you guys get everything done before—" here she checked the time on the radio screen "—six o'clock, maybe we can go catch an evening showing. How does that sound?"

"I want to see that new Nikki Blonsky movie," Natasha said earnestly. "What was it called again?"

"Try _lame_, maybe?" Rory shot back, turning around to fake his own smile. "Let's go see the new action movie that Michael Bay directed."

"Who's Michael Bay?"

Before the boy could answer, Gabriella kindly interrupted with a raised hand. "Phone call. This is probably my mother with one of her new work cell phones, so let's try to be quiet, yes?" she asked hopefully, selecting the green button on her Razr. "Hello?"

"Oh, Gabriella, so glad you picked up." An eerily cheerful Evans voice sailed through the phone.

She hesitated at a stop sign. "S-Sharpay?"

"I got your number through Kelsi," said the girl in a dramatic voice. "It's been bothering me all afternoon, I just wanted to get it out there: the reason I broke up with Troy is because he's still in love with you."

If anyone had ever died, gone to heaven, and was reborn again in the span of five seconds, it was Gabriella. She felt her heart stop for a moment as Sharpay spoke. "I beg your pardon?" she asked; perhaps she had been imagining things.

"He's still in love with you," the drama queen sighed. "I just couldn't handle it anymore. I knew I would never be able to replace what you were to him." Before Gabriella could reply, Sharpay gasped slightly. "Oh, drat, that would be my brother rapping on my dressing room door. Got to jet, Ella, but we'll chat later!" She hung up. Gabriella's mouth hung open, her hand still weakly holding the Razr to her ear. _We'll chat later?_

The children were now arguing about who was better: Orlando Bloom or Johnny Depp. Gabriella turned to them and quietly said in her jurisdiction voice, "I have to clean up my room and get my student council things together, so that'll give us probably an hour and a half. My mom can make you guys a snack and then, if everything is finished, we'll go see a movie _we all like_. How does that sound?" The children grumbled their authorization and each got out of the car, unaware of the sick look growing on the face of their 'big sister.'

In the window of the kitchen, Theresa stood, leaning against the counter, holding a mug of some beverage. Gabriella knew this pose: she was talking to someone. She could see her mother's lips moving, her eyes lit up every few seconds at something supposedly funny. The girl looked to the street. There sat the Bolton family's Range Rover, black and pristine and smooth. Her hand twitched. He was here. "Fuck," she said under her breath. Natasha looked up.

"What?" the girl asked with a curious half-smile.

"Nothing," Gabriella replied hastily. She yanked her bag from its spot in shotgun and trudged up the walkway, marching through the open front door. "We're home!"

Theresa appeared, still holding the mug, and smiled. "Nat, Rory! So good to see you guys," she said, giving each child a half hug. "Gabi—someone's here to see you." The soft look of hope on her face made Gabriella writhe.

"I know," she replied with a sigh. A moment passed, and suddenly, Troy appeared in the doorway, holding a cup of his own which was steaming with something hot. He offered her a smile, and she blatantly declined it with a glare. Theresa sent her a warning look that clearly said _Watch it_. "Hi, Troy."

He seemed relieved her mother had silently commanded some civil behavior. "Hi, Brie," he replied, his lips barely parting.

That name still disgusted her. She hated the nickname he had invented in the pre-fiasco days. At the time, she was flattered, but now she was just irritated. "Did you need anything specific?" she asked shortly. Theresa sent her another look, this time saying _Don't test me_. Mothers.

"I just wanted to know if we could talk—somewhere private, actually," he said, eyeing Rory and Natasha. He set the mug down and extended a hand. "I'm Troy." The children, doe-eyed and dreamy, each shook hands with him, introducing themselves quietly before Theresa herded them into the kitchen for an afternoon snack.

It was the first time they were really alone. In the parking lot, in the hallway, at practice, there was always someone certainly there to let Gabriella relax. But now they were truly abandoned, and Troy was gazing at her with an intense yet blank stare she didn't familiarize. "What?" she asked bluntly.

"I miss you." How three words could be so powerful.

"You're funny," she said, folding her arms and leaning to one side so her hip stuck out.

"Gabriella, I mean it," he said, a begging tone in his voice. "Please." He stepped closer. "We've ruined the beginning of this year—well, I've ruined it. Can't we make the rest of the time last? We only have a few more months together."

Eyebrows arched, she pursed her lips before replying, "Don't use the word together, Troy, because we _aren't_. It would probably really upset your master, excuse me, _girlfriend_." She sneered.

He groaned. "Gabriella, you know very well Sharpay broke up with me," he told her. "Any particular reason come to mind?"

The inclination made her stutter. Sharpay was telling the truth? She dumped Troy because he was thinking of her? Oh, but that was much too silly a thought. "No," she replied. "Nothing at all. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to—"

"Please," he asked, "just hear me out." She stopped and wrung her hands. "Can't we compromise? Gabriella, I do miss you. You have to believe me. It just took this long to establish how I truly felt." Although this wasn't really a lie, Troy felt guilty. He was beginning to get apprehensive about this plan of Sharpay's.

A car skidded outside, its tires screeching against the street before turning the corner. "Fine," she said, tugging on her necklace. Its chain nearly broke, her grip was so hard. "But tell me this, Troy: did you ever mean to really hurt me like you did that day at practice? Did you want to make sure I shattered along with the glass of water, my heart broken in a million pieces? Because I really loved you. I loved you more than I had ever loved my father _or_ my mother. Did you really want to let that fall away?"

Her words seemed to stun him. Troy opened his mouth, before closing it again and running a hand through his hair. His shaggy, beautiful dirty blond—no. She wouldn't think about that. No matter how brilliant his blue eyes sparkled. Or how toned his biceps were. Gabriella willed herself to glance away, to stare out the window. She felt tears threateningly form on her eyelashes. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Brie," he said in a low, earnest whisper. "I never meant to let you shatter. I never wanted you to hate me. And yet I did. And it's my fault. And I'm so sorry." The space between them had closed and his hot breath swirled against her face.

"I guess we're all sorry," she said, sniffling slightly, "Because I never meant to call you an asshole, and I never meant to let that beautiful bouquet of flowers get kicked around in the hallway, and I _never_ meant to tell you that you have tainted everything for me." The shine in his eyes made her cringe. How emotional could one afternoon get? "Because you haven't."

Maybe he expected a kiss, maybe she expected one, too. But something stopped the both of them from getting any closer, and he stood up, his tall, athletic body towering over hers. She wondered if the kiss would have been special. Theresa, Rory, and Natasha appeared, the children holding their own plates of apple slices and caramel. "Got everything done, Gabi?" Natasha asked cheerfully. Rory elbowed her and the little girl whined. Smiling softly, Gabriella's mother shuffled them along, probably into the den where they normally did their homework. Troy didn't seem to ever take notice.

"So what now?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she snapped, her mind suddenly poisoned with anger. He had still let Sharpay steal that first kiss from them. And that was unforgivable. "It's time for you to go home and it's time for me to do my job."

To her surprise, he didn't put up a fight. Opening the door, Troy turned around, giving her one lasting look that made her body melt. "I meant what I said when I told you I was sorry," he spoke longingly, a little regret in his voice.

"I did, too," she replied, coming up behind him to close the door. "I guess we're all sorry and we all mean it. Small world." As he plodded down the porch steps, she whispered, "Goodbye for now."

A/N: _Review!!!!!!!!_ -love- Desireé P.S. And those who review get cookies, fo sho. :)


	8. I Really Want You

Lizzie, HisDelilah, polopopiinprepxx, MackenziWeasley, Bright Starlight, Vrai Amour, troyellaforeva23, hersheyskiss, PinkJelly, LaurfoSho, mars.x- -gives you all cookies- It's a premium assortment of peanut butter, chocolate chip, sugar, and fortune cookies:) If you guys have specific names you'd rather me call you (Vrai Amour, polopopiinprepxx — I assume Cadence and Heather?) go ahead and tell me, I'll make a mental note. I'm actually pretty good with names, so I'd love to hear if you have a preference! -love- Desireé

P.S. Happy belated birthday, Zac Efron! Enjoy being twenty. You share a birthday with one of my best friends. :P

Chapter Eight, I Really Want You

By Thursday evening, Troy had called thirty times and sent Gabriella forty-two text messages. She ignored all of them, waving her mother away whenever she had a phone message and pressing 'erase' every time his name popped up on her mobile's screen. That night, Theresa sat at one end of the dining table, raking her food back and forth. "You're being awfully quiet," she noted, staring across the way at her daughter.

The girl had her hair in a loose ponytail, and there hadn't been any make up on her face in days. She shrugged and pressed her spoon into the mashed potato mountain she artistically sculpted. "I'm fine," she said with a lazy sigh.

"Fine—doesn't that stand for freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional?" Theresa said, smiling. She remembered fondly _The Italian Job_ being one of their mother-daughter movie nights.

The joke didn't seem to comfort Gabriella. She grimaced and pushed her plate away, scooting her chair back as she stood up. "Mom, I'm just not in the mood. Please, can I just go to bed? I'm worn out. Tomorrow we have to set up at the center for the Little and Big Sibling Carnival, so I don't want to be tired." Both knew this was certainly not her reason for said exhaustion, but Theresa didn't press the matter as she simply nodded and said good night.

Upstairs, there were two more text messages from Troy. Gabriella hesitated, running her finger along the buttons of her phone. She finally selected 'view' and saw the first: borrred. The second: want to hang out tomorrow afternoon? Another sigh slipped from her lips as she erased her inbox, overlooking the memo from Kelsi and a forwarded joke from one of the decathlon team members. Nothing special, she thought.

_Across town, Sharpay is laying across Troy's stomach on her bed, scrolling through his cell phone._

"You think she actually bought it?" the drama queen asked, looking over at the boy beneath her. Indeed, Sharpay had been the one to encourage half of the sent text messages, while the others were secretly typed by Troy, who was quick to delete them afterwards. He knew Sharpay would look through his phone eventually, and seeing unauthorized messages to Gabriella would kill her. "I mean, who knew she could be so dense?"

There was a small heartbeat in his head, as if their quick, flustered make out session made his blood rush. All it did, though, was make his skin crawl. Sharpay had giggled into his mouth more than once, which was beginning to annoy him. Her lips were pink and slightly glossy now, some of the lip shine now on his face. He subtly wiped it off with the back of his sleeve every few moments when she turned away. "Maybe," he said, staring at the ceiling. Her head rose and fell along with his chest.

"I think I'm just going to skip school tomorrow. I think I'll take a personal day at the spa. You want to come along? Helene can give you one of the hot stone massages, it really works out the tension. And baby, no offense, but I can feel the knots in your back." She reached up and ran her index finger along his lower lip. A smile adorned her face, but her eyes, he noticed, remained cold.

He resisted the urge to fake a gag. A day at the spa with Sharpay was like spending a day at the zoo with a whiny little child. It was supposed to be fun, but it usually ended up being more discomfort than at first. "No thanks, Pay," he said softly. "I have to help my dad clean out his office at lunch." Sometimes you didn't have to lie to get out of something."

"Fine, but be happy: our plan is working," she said, and leaned up to kiss him. He rested his hand on the small of her back and she giggled. Again. "I've got to go, don't get me in trouble with my parents!" One last kiss and Sharpay was out the door, Troy upright as he looked after her running down the hallway. His mother called out goodbye and a convertible roared to life outside. Drama queens had dramatic exits. It was only logical.

Picking up his new _Envy_ phone, Troy glanced at the messages Sharpay had sent. He smiled softly and thought of another text. The Salutations Dance. He dialed Gabriella's home number and waited. Three rings, four rings tops he would hang up. He was about to cancel the call when Theresa's voice answered smoothly, "Hello?"

"Ms. Montez!" he stuttered. "It's Troy. B-Bolton. Troy Bolton. Sorry to call so late, I just wanted to know if Gabriella was available. I had a question for her."

There was a sweetness in the woman's voice that made Troy wonder if mercy skipped a generation in the Montez family. "Oh, she's actually in the shower right now, but I'd be happy to take a message. Anything particular you want me to write down?" she asked.

"Oh—I was just wondering…" His voice died away and he stared up at the ceiling. What was he doing? Sharpay would never go for this, not now and not ever. Her authorization would never step near this plan. But he decided to ignore this little piece of conscience and ask anyway. "If she wanted to be my date for the school's welcome dance next Friday?"

A small gasp of appreciation burst through the receiver. "Oh, that would be so adorable!" Theresa exclaimed. "Honestly, she would be happy to go with you, I'll just jot your name down right here. She'll see you tomorrow, of course, so I'm sure she tell you then. That fine, honey?" He wrapped a loose thread on his pant leg around his finger and pulled. It lengthened.

"Uh, sure. Thanks so much, Ms. Montez." He hung up, and shifted so he could stare out the window. Maybe a jog would be in good order. His lungs had been begging for fresh air since the beginning of the week, as if he had been holding the same breath all this time. Outside, he exhaled. Maybe he had been.

_Gabriella is annoyed to find Kelsi and Taylor investigating her circumstances over the internet._

Music xx Lyrics: do you know if Troy likes you?

00Bookworm: **duh**. of course he likes her.

breaking free 14: even if he did, which he DOESN'T, it wouldn't matter. i don't like him.

00Bookworm: so the fact that your screen name is your song with him AND his basketball jersey number means _nothing_?

Music xx Lyrics: anytime now, G.

breaking free 14: how do you even know his number is 14, T?

00Bookworm: don't change the subject, G. and i happen to go to at least one practice a week in support of Chad, so obviously i have time to observe the teammates' numbers.

Music xx Lyrics: _soooooo_. do you like him or not?

breaking free 14: no i don't! stop asking!

Music xx Lyrics: well, there we have it. she likes him.

breaking free 14: this is pointless. i'm going to bed. good night.

00Bookworm: bedtime already? G, you used to be so fun-loving and free. qué pasa, chica?

breaking free 14: good _night_.

_The next day, Theresa springs the news of Troy's proposal on Gabriella just before she leaves for school._

"Bye mom," Gabriella called out, seizing her keys and purse from the counter. Her mother came from around the kitchen's island, holding a bowl full of brownie mix. The sibling carnival, most likely.

"Honey, Troy called last night…"

"Mom, I don't care. I told you the last hundred times. Please stop telling me that."

Stirring the mix, Theresa shook her head. "No, no, it's important. He wanted to ask you to the dance next week… What was it? The welcome dance?"

Gabriella felt her heart explode. "Salutations Dance," she offered softly. Theresa looked at her expectantly, licking a drop of brownie off her finger. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You should go with him." Mothers could be so irrational.

"No!" Gabriella blurted out, shaking slightly. "Mom, you can't possibly expect me to—" She stopped and inhaled sharply. "You know what, I don't want to start the day like this. I'll—I'll think about it, okay? Just, don't mention it again, please. But I'll talk to Troy, I promise I will."

This was a victory. Theresa nodded triumphantly and kissed her daughter's cheek before watching her trudge down to the Escape and tear out the driveway. "Teenagers," the mother sighed, "So rash and emotional."

_At school, Gabriella is cornered._

"Did your mom tell you I called last night?" Troy asked. He had appeared at the water fountain in the upper East wing. Gabriella wondered what he was doing in this part of the school. If she remembered correctly, their schedules put her on the way to science at the moment, and he would be in health across the campus, in the secondary building. This didn't seem to bother him.

She shrugged. "She briefly mentioned you rang," came her seemingly careless response.

He persisted, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Will you go with me to the Salutations Dance next Friday?" he asked. "That is, if you don't have a date already." He stuck his hands in her pocket and she ran her tongue along her top lip.

There was a closing of doors and she knew she would be late. Oh, screw it. Ms. Petersen could wait for once. "I'll think about it," she said finally, tossing a scrap of paper in the trash. He looked up with a hopeful glint in his eyes, and she smiled slightly. Maybe she could do this.

"What time?" Troy asked, flipping out his cell phone. Technology was quite the impact on some people. "I'll pick you up at your house."

"Call me," she declared intrepidly. "Not a minute sooner than eight, I've got set up today for the sibling carnival."

"I'll help, I'm a part of the program now," he offered. She shook her head and turned on her heel in the direction of science class. "Gabriella!"

"You've done too much," she said, cocking her head so she eyed him subtly. "Take a break, and relax. Now that Sharpay's leash isn't choking you anymore, I would assume you could step back and take a breath."

He smiled halfheartedly. He inhaled, and looked down the hallway. Another breath of fresh air really could do a person good.

A/N: Okay, guys: for those who have read Footprints, what would you think if I did a sequel? I'm seriously considering it, and I've got a plot in mind. -lots of love- Desireé


	9. All Good Things Come to an End

Lizzie, Cadence, 4GetYesterday, Bright Starlight, HisDelilah, Lucy, Chloe, Lauren- I forgot to add this in the last chapter but… BROWNIES OR LEMON SQUARES!!! I made double chocolate Ghiradelli brownies last night for my little brother's school festival last weekend and I burnt them. :) But these are warm and soft and perfect! All for you loverly (yes, with the 'r') reviewers. -love- Desireé

P.S. You people are so nice, waiting for me to update. I know, this chapter took way to long to go up, but I promise I'll work on more additions this weekend, when I'm free!!! Yay! Okay, normal mode. I'm cool.

HisDelilah- Oh, thank you! I got 'Lemmon' from one of Mary-Kate Olsen's movie characters when I was little. Childhood fondness.

Lauren- Yes, I get it. :) Now, at least.

Chapter Nine, All Good Things Come to an End

The sibling carnival was produced quickly with the help of the older siblings and a construction staff. The ferris wheel and roller coaster, the two main attractions, were assembled in the corner, towards the shade, while the house of mirrors and obstacle course were noticeable in the middle. "We've done good," Gabriella said to herself when the day of work ended. Natasha and Rory were running around somewhere, and both anticipated tomorrow. To their older sister's dismay, though, they asked if Troy would be there too. She was forced to answer, "Yes, he will be."

It was also to her dismay when he called the next morning and wanted to know if they could carpool. "I'll get lost," he attempted humorously when she made a tutting sound with her tongue. Gabriella sighed and looked at her mother, who had been watching from a distance at the kitchen table. "And you could be a great icebreaker between me and my little brother."

Charity, she remembered stiffly. This is all for charity. "Sure," Gabriella replied in a fake-happy tone. "Pick me up in an hour, I'll be ready." Letting the phone back on the cradle, she let out a groan. Theresa mimicked her with another tut and Gabriella grimaced. "Save it, Mom."

"I didn't say anything!" her mother replied indignantly.

"You were thinking it."

"Oh, Lord, Gabriella. You're so dramatic."

"This is nowhere close to dramatic." Gabriella put her hands on her hip and flipped her hair behind her shoulder. "I'll _show_ you dramatic. Drama—"

Theresa held up a hand. "Gabi, I'd love to hear more, honey, but I've got to run. Lots of stuff going on today at the office." She stood up and nursed the rest of her banana before through the peel away in the trash.

"It's Saturday!" Gabriella pointed out.

"Ah, well, lucky you get to go to a carnival," her mother replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get dressed, as should you. Troy will be here in—fifty-eight minutes?" Checking her watch, the woman nodded and smiled as she disappeared down the hall, making her way to the master bedroom. Gabriella glared after her and turned to the crisp, half-eaten apple that sat on the counter. Suddenly, she wasn't so hungry anymore.

_Troy comes to pick up Gabriella, with his newly assigned little brother in the backseat._

With brown locks and blue eyes, Gabriella thought she saw a miniature Troy in the back of the Range Rover when her ride materialized by the curb. "Good morning," she said as cheerfully as she could achieve. Turning to catch glances with the boy, she smiled. "Hello there. I'm Gabriella. What's your name?"

He grinned back, showing a gap where one front tooth would normally be. "I'm Sam," he announced proudly. "Are you friends with Troy?"

"Yes," she replied tenderly, and felt Troy's glance burn a hole in the side of her face. Gabriella waved it off by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and turned back to face the road. "So, we'll pick up my little siblings and then the carnival! Are you excited, Sam?"

The boy nodded and she felt her lips turn up in the smile. He was cute, adorable enough to make the afternoon bearable, along with Natasha and Rory. "So, where to, m'lady?" Troy laughed slightly. He blushed, though, when Gabriella quirked an eyebrow his direction.

"South and Landon," she responded, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing out the window. "It's an apartment, so I'll have to ring them."

There was no need, though, as Rory and Natasha waited on the sidewalk in the front of the main office, looking excited when the black, glossy car pulled up. "Cool! We're riding with Troy!" Natasha squealed when she opened the back door. Her eyes zeroed in on Sam and the girl's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"Another little sibling," Gabriella explained, and waved her hands. "Now hurry, get in, we haven't got all afternoon." The Trace children scooted in and Rory leaned toward his big sister's seat, whispering something about being a little moody that morning. "Thanks," the black-haired girl said in a sarcastic tone. Troy half-smiled, she noted.

There were only a few people by the time they arrived and parked in the lot beside the carnival. Alma, the director for the youth center, saw them and smiled. "Ah, Gabi," she said grandly, "And I see you have a friend here. A new sibling, I hope?"

Extending a hand, Troy smiled politely. "Troy Bolton, ma'am. Pleasure to be here. It was actually Gabriella who got me interested in the program, and I'm already getting to be friends with Sam here." The director nodded and beamed at Gabriella, with a what-a-catch raise of the eyebrows.

"Oh, no, he's not my­—" But before Gabriella could so courteously correct the woman, Alma was off in another direction, still under the impression she had just met 'Troyella' and not 'Troy' and 'Gabriella.' Rory tugged on her sweatshirt.

"Can we go on the roller coaster?" he asked eagerly. "I want to go in front."

The children, unlike young Sam, were old enough to care for themselves at the sibling events, finding pleasant freedom within their structure, so Gabriella didn't mind whenever they wandered off to find friends and excitement. She handed them a cluster of tickets and nodded. "Go have fun, check up with me every half hour, and don't get into trouble. It'll be my head," she warned, and the girl and boy nodded somberly before running off in the direction of the festival rides.

His lips playing a smile again, Troy looked at her. "You've got the authority thing down," he observed. She made a face and started in the direction of the drinks booth. In the quiet fairgrounds, she could hear him follow, Sam lagging behind. Crap.

"Look," Gabriella said, turning around, "I know you're trying to be nice to me and whatever—although I have no idea why and I'm not so sure I want to know—but please, just lay off, will you? I've got enough in my hair right now, and you're just another annoying knot."

His words hit her harshly. Troy winced and bit his lower lip, but that was as far as he went before coming around again. "Gabriella, I just want us to be friends again," he said earnestly, and suddenly his arm jerked sideways, as Sam impressively pulled him toward the snow cone stand. Gabriella smiled slightly as Troy helplessly stumbled away, but his eyes still begged her for some redemption.

"Meet me in line for the ferris wheel!" she yelled out. "Half an hour!" The origin of the sudden impulse was lost on her, as were many things.

_Thirty minutes later, Troy convinces Natasha and Rory to watch Sam while he attends a 'meeting.'_

There was no way to describe her beauty, and his stupidity. He had felt his pocket vibrate three times during the half hour he had catered to Sam's every wish, and all calls were from Sharpay. Troy ignored the last buzz, which told him he had a voicemail. All three would just be whiny messages laughing at Gabriella's misfortune. He winced just thinking about it.

"Gosh, discomfort doesn't look good on you," Gabriella said, brushing off his shoulder and stepping back to look at him. He blinked, and felt his face relax. "Ah, that's better. So, hotshot, you like heights much?"

Glancing up, he saw the ferris wheel didn't go too high. Yet there was still a somewhat nervous feeling growing inside him. "They're not my personal cup of joe," he offered dryly, and she laughed. "But I can manage if I'm up there with you."

Face flared with red, Gabriella immediately looked down at the asphalt upon which they stood. The line moved, and each took a few steps forward. "So… How are you liking the sibling program?" she asked, hoping to make conversation. There was a small part of her, though she hated to admit it, that wanted to let Troy back in, and be friends again.

"It's good. Tiring, but good," he said nervously, glimpsing at the ferris wheel one more time. Someone rocked their seat and the operator yelled up at them to stop. Troy swallowed, and felt Gabriella's hand slide around his arm.

"You'll be fine," she giggled.

"I'm sure," he replied, his blue eyes swirling with slight mirth, just exultant to be in her company.

_To Troy's horror and Gabriella's amusement, their first go-around gets interrupted, with their seat on the very top._

The town was quite astonishing from up high. While Troy weakly stared at his hands, Gabriella smiled out at the view around her. Smog was a little tasteless, but she enjoyed the clear sky and blurry skyscraper shadows. "Loosen up, will you?" she chuckled, nudging the boy beside her. "You act like this will be the last time you ever see sunlight."

"I don't exactly have a great history with high places," he said airily, feigning annoyance.

"Story time?" she asked with a snicker. He leaned into her, his shoulder against hers for a moment before they both realized what was happening and quickly withdrew.

Twiddling his thumbs for a moment, Troy stared ahead and cringed. "The one thing I could never help in P.E. was the rock wall. I just hated being so high up, and I always felt like I'd get sweaty hands and I'd slip and fall down to a painful death."

"Didn't you have a harness?" Gabriella replied with a teasing smile.

"Harness or not," Troy retorted pointedly, "I was still freaked out. My teacher kept yelling at me to finish, and someone called out to not look down. I was ready to kill them, because of course, when someone tells you not to do something you do it anyway, so I looked down and—"

There was no time left for speaking as suddenly, Gabriella had her hands around his neck and her lips on his. Shit, she thought. Shit, shit, shit. You're kissing him. You can't kiss him. Stop. Now. Stop kissing. Oh, but you can't, he's too delicious. NO! Stop. Stop, stop, stop—

"Holy crap," Troy gasped when they pulled apart for air. She leaned in again and savored his taste before pulling back again. "Holy. Crap."

She bit her lower lip before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I shouldn't have done that," she murmured feebly. "Oh, fuck, I'm sorry. I really should not have done that." Gabriella tapped her foot and looked down at the operator. "Any time now!" she shouted anxiously. It was Troy's turn to laugh, and she turned to glance at him with a slight jealously.

"I don't know why, but suddenly my vertigo's gone," he said, beaming. Gabriella resisted the urge to kiss him again; it could be illegal to have such a breathtaking flavor.

"I think we should get off soon," she mumbled, her cheeks flushing.

He seemed somewhat disheartened. "Yes," Troy responded quietly, "I guess we should."

Neither would admit the complete and total elation the kiss had given them, but the both of them seemed to scream silently. Gabriella felt her entire body drum with ecstasy, and Troy bit back a laugh. That had been their first kiss, on top of a portable ferris wheel at a neighborhood carnival. She leaned against him, her elbow nudging him slightly and he nudged back.

This one good thing could last for a while, even if all good things eventually came to an end.


	10. Save Tonight

A/N: All right, I'm in an especially good mood right now. Tomorrow my mom is letting me skip school to go to Disneyland and I just ate a pint of Häagen-Dasz raspberry sorbet that was especially delectable. So, if this particularly steamy chapter—which, by the way, is helpfully assisted by the great lyrics of Eagle-Eyed Cherry's 'Save Tonight'—gets a lot of reviews, I'll update again tomorrow morning or maybe even tonight! You guys are the best, hope those who read Wristcutters enjoyed it. -love- Desireé

P.S. I'm too lazy to individually distribute the assorted baked goods, so take your pick: fudge brownies or citrusy lemon squares. And the next treat… Those Pillsbury holiday cookies with the pictures on them! I tried to find them with my friend last night at the store but they didn't have any (I know, sad, right?) so we got Tollhouse. :) Rambling is ending… now.

Dream- A 'cup of joe' would be slang for cup of coffee. :) My sister always calls things she doesn't like 'not her cup of tea' so I changed it around a little bit for Troy's sake.

Chapter Ten, Save Tonight

The carnival ended well, with most of the funds raised and the children satisfied. Toward the end, Natasha was trying to juggle leftover hard-boiled eggs from the egg toss, while Rory was reading the nutrition facts on the back of Gabriella's empty vitamin water bottle. Troy was teaching Sam how to tie his shoelaces as the program's clean-up staff began to dismantle the booths around them.

"Well," Gabriella said, standing up to brush herself off, "That was actually fun. Troy, you can give us a ride? Nat, Rory, your mom wants you home in twenty minutes, so we should get going." The children nodded and both started for the parking lot, Sam running to catch up with them as Troy lagged behind, his eyes twinkling.

"You know, I really liked that kiss, Brie," he said ardently, his arm drooping around her shoulder. She, for once, didn't dismiss his touch, but instead smiled up at him.

"Glad I could be of service," she replied as woodenly as possible. Troy made a face and Gabriella squinted back, their bodies beginning to relax in one another's company. In the Range Rover, she almost regretted breaking up away from the comfort of his toned torso. A grin teased the corners of her lips and she hid the happiness by looking out the window.

One by one, the children thanked Troy for the ride and scurried up to their respective homes, which were conveniently within a few blocks radius from each other. Gabriella was relieved by the time Sam waved from his front door and disappeared inside once his mother yelled out her appreciation. "Well," the brunette said, turning nervously to the boy next to her, "I'm hungry. Are you hungry? It's almost three. Wow. We've been out… for a… while." Her voice trailed off as she saw a smile beginning to form beneath his glowing eyes. "What?"

"You want to come over to my house?" he asked, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "We could just hang out. My mom's probably left lunch in the fridge for us, she's out with my dad to some banquet for the country club right now."

"S-sure," Gabriella stammered. They would be at his house… Alone. That gave her a horrible feeling in her stomach, but her heart fluttered at the chance to be in his presence and his presence only. "Yeah, that sounds great." He smiled and expertly turned the car around, while she stared out the open window again, feeling the fresh sunshine begin to wilt upon her face.

_The awkwardness is soon forgotten as Gabriella spends relentless hours with Troy that evening._

She laughed and fell onto her back, relishing in the way the cool grass pressed against her skin. Beside her, he smiled and popped another forest green Tic-Tac into his mouth. "Oh, you know I'm right," Troy chuckled, referring to the mention of the similarities between Ms. Darbus and his grandmother, "You haven't even met one of them and you can already tell they were separated at birth."

The nighttime sky that drifted lazily above them cast an eerie glow on their faces. She looked especially pale, and he seemed to emit a flickering incandescence that flared against the illuminated backdrop of his house. They were both quiet for a moment before Gabriella brushed his bangs to the side. His hair was darker, and his body proportions had evened out considerably. She remembered liking him before, during their auditions and all that, but she didn't remember him being so… _hot_.

"You want to go up to my room?"

It wasn't a question, not even an offer. He knew, just as well as she knew he knew, the answer. Gabriella pursed her lips and nodded, and Troy reached out to help her up. She gracefully took his hand and stretched her legs, falling back into him for a moment with a giggle. "I don't know what's wrong with me tonight," she sighed blissfully.

"Nothing's wrong with you," he whispered into her ear. She hummed as a response and walked two steps at a time as she made her way upstairs, his icy breath and tender touch hot on her heels.

_Go and close the curtains, 'cause all we need is candlelight_

The kiss felt good. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she put her hands on his shoulders and leaned down to let her lips lock with his. After a moment, she straddled his lap and let him lay kisses along her jaw line, up to her ear and down to her neck, and then to her collar bone. A gentleman, he looked to her for her blessing, the signal that he had wanted most out of anything. She bit down on the side of her tongue gently, thinking, wondering, asking what this would do and where it would go. But she needed to be held, to be loved, to be wanted, so nodding slightly, Gabriella let Troy open up her world.

_You and me and a bottle of wine, going to hold you tonight_

She leaned back as he unbuttoned the top of her blouse, easing it off, over her head as her arms floated up and around his neck. He kissed her again, and she smiled. It was no longer a problem that a part of her despised him. It was no longer her responsibility to make sure he was sorry. It was no longer in her interest to hurt Troy Bolton. It was, however, her wish to find out what love was and what it meant to risk it.

"I am sorry," he whispered midkiss, as if he had read her thoughts.

"About what?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair. She didn't want to think about their past.

_Well we know I'm going away, and how I wish I wish it weren't so_

"Everything," he replied as he pulled on one of the belt loops of her jeans. "I wish we could have done this a long time ago."

"I know," she moaned into his ear as he spun his fingers across the dip in her back. "I do, too. I really, honestly do. And part of the reason we haven't is my fault."

_So take this wine and drink with me, let's delay our misery_

There was a small appreciation in his eyes, and she smirked. "What? You keep looking at me today."

"I can't _help_ it."

"Oh, you're so flattering."

_Save tonight and fight the break of dawn_

They kissed again, and Gabriella felt her body rush with adrenaline as he let his hands splash across her stomach. "I'm sorry, too," she whispered.

"I know," he replied. "Remember, we're all sorry."

_Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone_

The feeling of his hand on the small of her back, the explosion that demanded attention inside her, the faint call of regret tugging at the back of her mind. Everything seemed to overwhelm her, but in the best way possible. She let her tongue explore Troy's mouth, her hands clasped around the back of his neck as her jeans seemed to slide away.

"What are we doing?" he panted as she leaned her head against the wall. He wrapped her bra strap around his finger.

"Does it matter?" she asked.

_Save tonight and fight the break of dawn. Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone_

"No," he replied, "I guess it doesn't."

Another light year passed and Gabriella felt her emotions screaming from within her. Troy could barely breathe as she sighed one last time into his ear before making a spot comfortably in his arms. "I—I can't believe we just did that," she mused.

Sharpay and I never did that, he thought silently. "Are you okay?"

"I'm—I'm fine. Just a little… Flustered, I suppose," she assured him, kissed his arm with a soft, weakened smile.

_There's a log on the fire, and it burns like me for you_

She glanced at his alarm clock. "It's nearly eleven. I'm hungry again," she laughed. "Can we go get something to eat?"

He nodded, sitting up. "I don't know where my shirt is," he observed, glancing at the dark floor.

She peered over the edge of the bed. "I haven't the slightest idea where my jeans _or_ my blouse are," she said. "I'll just where one of your nice dress shirts." Before he could object, which he wouldn't have anyway had he the chance, Gabriella was searching through his closet, where she settled on a faded blue dress shirt with an irrevocable Coke stain on the sleeve.

_Tomorrow comes with one desire: to take me away, it's true_

He watched her parade around the room, skipping and pirouetting and dancing and laughing, with a slight penitence. This would all come crashing down. And he hated that. He hated that he couldn't give her this happiness forever. It wouldn't last. Troy regretted that most.

"Do you remember the lyrics to 'Breaking Free,' Troy?" Gabriella asked, bringing him from his inner guilt. "I was singing that the other day. _Soaring, flying_."

A smile was forced upon his mouth, and he reached for one of his jerseys and boxer shorts on the floor among the pile of dirty laundry. "There's not a star in heaven that we can't reach," he finished with slight amusement, but the words didn't come with a melody. They were only spoken.

"Oh, don't be bashful," she chastised playfully, "You can sing. If we're trying, yeah we're breaking free."

_It ain't easy to say goodbye, darling please don't cry_

She reached out to take his hands and manipulate his body into dancing. He decrepitly swayed his shoulders, and Gabriella rolled her eyes. "You're dying on me, Bolton," she said.

"No, I'm just tired," he lied.

"Uh huh," she replied, "If you're not going to dance, let's go get something to eat in the kitchen. I'm starved." She flounced downstairs and he followed, watching her with a hesitance that suggested he thought she would just splinter at any time.

'_Cause girl you know I've got to go, oh Lord I wish it wasn't so_

The refrigerator held her prize: a leftover box from the local Italian place. "Fettuccini alfredo!" she exclaimed, and seized a fork from the drawer. "You hungry?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine."

She wrapped some noodles around the silverware and let the cold pasta drip onto her tongue. "Mm, this is delicious. Are you sure you don't want any?" she teased, waving the stained utensil in his face.

_Save tonight and fight the break of dawn. Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone_

Troy harrumphed and picked at a noodle from the box, dropping into his mouth. Gabriella let out a small shriek, reminiscent of Sharpay, and he hid a wince by ducking as she reaching out to smear some alfredo sauce on his cheek. "Cheater!" she cried with a laugh, and set the box down before scooping up some more creamy white dressing. "I'll teach you."

He ducked again and the counter behind him splattered with sauce. Troy grinned and leaned against her, her body pinned to the refrigerator as he kissed her. She reached behind him and dragged her hand along his back, and he groaned lightheartedly. "Oh, you know you like it," she accused.

_Save tonight and fight the break of dawn. Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone_

He forgot about the doting voice in the back of his head that warned he was in hot water, the voice that warned he would regret his actions in the near future. As a teenager in love, he was never more distracted.

They slid down to the floor and Gabriella fed him a forkful of fettuccini. "Delicious," he said, and she nodded satisfactorily.

_Tomorrow comes to take me away, I wish that I, that I could stay. Girl you know I've got to go, oh Lord I wish it wasn't so_

"What would you say if I told you I was whipped?" he asked, and she stopped her giggling to look at him with doubtful eyes.

"I'd say you're crazy," she replied.

"Why?"

"You're Troy Bolton. I'm, if I remember correctly, Gabriella Montez. We're the odd couple that did a school musical together in junior year, before I moved on and so did you. For different reasons, of course, but nevertheless."

He bit his lip. "You know, I never liked being Sharpay's pet," he said. "I really sympathized Ryan after she and I started going out."

_Save tonight and fight the break of dawn. Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone_

Gabriella half-smirked. "Why _did_ you go out with her?" she asked suddenly, her voice quiet.

"I-I don't know," he admitted. "I guess if I worried if I didn't go out with her, there'd be this big pandemonium. We were good friends when we were younger, and our parents still talk. A part of me still loved her, in a way. When we first started dating, I was my fourteen-year-old self again. It was my past that I wanted, but it was nothing like it."

She was about to reply when the doorbell rang. Troy stood up, and Gabriella did, too. "Probably my mom and dad, locked out again," he inferred, and she nodded, following him to the door. To her horror, though, it was not Mr. and Mrs. Bolton on the porch.

_Oh Lord I wish it wasn't so_

It was Sharpay.


	11. Fall to Pieces

A/N: You guys are the bestest. :) Poster, I've come to surmise, is a much more low key story than Wishful, Footprints, et cetera. Should I make it longer or shorter? At this rate, I could keep it at five more chapters after this one, or I could throw in some twists to make it the same length as probably Wishful. Thoughts? -love- Desireé

P.S. Cadence, I kind of sort of stole your story title for this chapter title. :P Apologies!

Chapter Eleven, Fall to Pieces

At twelve o'clock at night, in boxer shorts and a jersey, looking at your high-pitched, secret, scheming girlfriend while the girl you _really_ love stands next to you in one of your old shirts, you just know things can't get any worse. Yet they do. Sharpay's heavily-outlined eyes widened as she began to do the math. The terrible, ugly math. One, Gabriella in Troy's dress shirt. Two, Troy looking half-amused, half-freaked. And three, the inevitably awful feeling that was bitching at the borderline between her throat and mouth, screaming to be released. "What… What is… What the hell?" the drama queen finally managed, her hands clenched.

"Shar—Sharp—Sharpay." Troy couldn't seem to say anymore, his mouth dry and his entire body beginning to shrink away, getting smaller and smaller. This was the part he had been dreading. Where everything came crashing down.

"Um," Gabriella began, beginning to rock back and forth on her bare feet, "Um, um, um."

The love triangle had suddenly come to life, and Sharpay was screaming, and Gabriella was crying and confused, and Troy was trying to calm the both of them. The blonde shook her head and shoved him. "Don't you dare tell me relax, Troy Bolton!" she shouted. "I don't fucking care if the neighbors hear! _Let them hear!_" She turned to the dark street behind her. "Do y'all hear that? Y'all hear this shit? Half my life I've dealt with these stupid audiences, what's one more?" She slammed her hand into the doorway and Gabriella crossed her arms, tears streaming down her face as she bit her fingernails. Sharpay scoffed. "Oh, I don't see why _you're_ crying. You don't even know what's going on. But, why don't I enlighten you? After all, better to hear it from me then, say, I don't know, the whole school. Daisy's pretty in touch with the biggest gossip outlets."

His heart heavy, Troy quickly shook his head and stammered, "No, Sharpay, that's not necessary, please don't—"

"It was my idea," the drama queen interrupted, silencing Troy, "But he agreed quite happily. We were supposed to snap you in half, like a stupid little twig. He was supposed to break your heart, let you love him again and then watch you crumble when he dumped you. Well, here's the chance, but there's a bonus." She glared at the boy in front of her. "You get to watch me fall, too."

"Sharpay, please," Troy begged, wringing his hands as he watched his life shatter before his eyes. "I didn't mean to—I didn't—"

"Is that true, Troy?" Gabriella asked, sniffling as she turned to him. "Did you really… give your approval? You went along with this sick plan to hurt me?" She seemed too shaken to speak for a moment. "I can't believe that. And to think this whole time, in the short few days we've talked, I maybe thought we could get around to liking one another again, perhaps only friends. Too late for that, I guess," she muttered flippantly, staring down at the floor as the floodgates opened again.

There was a burst of piercing air as Sharpay let out a scream. She stomped her foot and glowered at Troy. "You ruined it!" she yelled. "I told you keep it _platonic_—just make sure she gets around to loving you again! That would have been possible, right? That would have been at least foreseeable, right? I didn't overestimate the highly esteemed Troy Bolton?"

He swallowed and shook his head weakly. "I don't know," he whispered, as fragile as the antiques in the window shop, "Maybe you did."

Suddenly, Gabriella couldn't breathe. She couldn't feel her legs, her head was spinning, her entire body was clenching up. She knelt down on the ground and held her head in her hands, letting her sobs out. She heard Sharpay scoff again and this was the last straw for the brainiac. Looking up, she growled, "What the hell is your problem? I suppose you didn't see this coming, I don't think _any_ of us did, certainly not me, the original victim, but why are _you_ groaning? Troy and I had sex? That's why you're complaining? Oh, boohoo. Sharpay, let me ask you something. What does love mean to you?"

The drama queen seemed stunned for a minute. "I, um, I don't—" She stopped midsentence and Gabriella continued.

"Is love just something you could go without, Sharpay? Something that, if it didn't exist, would make life a whole lot easier?" she asked, hugging her body. "Is it just some bonus, some extra luxury that you don't really need? There are so many people in the world, Sharpay, that want to be loved and want to love someone. But you know what? No one is there to love them or be loved by them. That's why I think it's so horrible how you could even suggest something as emotional sabotage, because it would be a simple waste of both our time and an insult to humanity. I'll show you a little orphan child on the other side of this earth and tell them to love you because if they do, you will love them back. They'll listen to me in a heartbeat because, maybe even if it won't happen, the _prospect_ of love bewilders and amazes them at the same time." She whimpered slightly as she took a breath. "I think it's sad that you have no real experience with love, so you have to watch others suffer for it. I love Troy, that won't change, regardless of our relationship after tonight. What do _you_ love, Sharpay? Or rather, who?"

She stormed past the blonde, their shoulders checking, Gabriella not even aware that she was about to take a walk at midnight in nothing but underwear and a shirt. Troy yelled for her to come back, desperately screaming into the darkness. "Brie! Don't leave, please, can't we fix this?" he clamored, trying to avoid the trembling Sharpay beside him.

"I'm s-so sorry," she said, her body quaking like a leaf. "I'm—I'm so sorry, Troy."

He looked down at her, and out into the blackness where, at some point, Gabriella was. Biting his lip ruefully, he said with an imprudence, "Yeah, whatever. Remember, we're all sorry."

A/N: I'm off to Disneyland shortly! Hope you guys enjoyed this. -love- Desireé


	12. Keep Holding On

A/N: I have a proposition: we reach one hundred reviews in the first, eh, few hours after this chappie (oh my goodness, do I just write that?!) goes up, I update tomorrow morning. I know, I know, I'm stooping to the low level of bribery, but how can I resist? I need feedback—my writing capacity is running low right now! -love- Desireé

Chapter Twelve, Keep Holding On

After the midnight blow-up—which, mind you only happened in September—Troy, Gabriella, and Sharpay had earned a nickname at East High: the Bermuda Triangle. Step between them, and you'll be lost forever in a sea of confusion. At school, the drama queen was considerably quiet. She and Daisy hung back, skulking among the people like shadows, followers but never the vocals. Troy found he was back to square one, as every day he begged Gabriella to speak to him, all the way into the days of December where most people were cheerful and in good moods. On the contrary, the three points of the Bermuda Triangle were anything but jolly. The blonde was dreary, the basketballer was panicky, and the brainiac was temperamental. Happy Holidays.

The news of the fight did not go over well with any of the families. Theresa clicked her tongue the next day in an unfortunate manner that made it clear she didn't approve of it—Gabriella half-heartedly received this silent scolding with a roll of the eyes and a wave of her hand. Jack and Lillian Bolton seemed a little shocked when they found out via Chad. Troy made a mental note to kill his best friend as his father lectured him on the importance of fidelity (ugh) and abstinence (_awk_ward) while his mother and sister watched from an uncomfortable distance. Of course, Mrs. Evans wasn't _consoling_ when Sharpay told her the news, but she did ask if it would affect her daughter's chances at becoming prom queen. The drama queen's eyes widened and she screamed, "Get out of my room, Mother! You are so… _Insensitive!_" As some say, like mother like daughter.

The day before the Salutations Dance, Mrs. Bolton tiptoed upstairs while her husband was dozing off on the couch. A band she didn't know blasted its music through her son's speakers from behind a closed door, so she knocked lightly, only to get a muffled, "Go away."

"Troy," she insisted, "It's me. Can I come in? I think we need to talk. I didn't really get a voice when your father had that, um, _particular_ discussion with you the other day."

The door opened and Troy stood, staring back at his mother. She was a pretty woman, with long brown hair and a warm smile, usually able to cure a broken heart or mend some wounds laid by his son. "What do you want?" he asked coolly.

She let her lips purse for a minute before she pushed herself in, stepping around her strong son to take her throne at his desk. "Oh, Troy, you're quite a character, you know that?" she said with an emphatic glow. "I swear, watching you grow up was like watching a movie. All the girls swooned over you and were simply obsessed."

He groaned. "Mom—"

"Wait," she interrupted, "Let me speak. My words aren't meant to inflate your ego, so don't let them, just listen." Lillian took the moment to draw her thumb along a crease in her palm. "You could have any girl you want, Troy. Both your father and I know that, which is why we try our very best to raise you like a _gentleman_. You certainly have made some irrational mistakes in the last few months, and you certainly have had to bear your father's reproaches to the situation, but I want you to hear what I think, too."

Now he sat up, slightly intrigued by what his mother had to say. Troy dropped the domino he had been trying to set up, knocking over the arrangement he had so perfectly set up in the recent hour. One by one, the dominoes fell away, bumping into one another. Lillian waited for the noise to settle before continuing, "Gabriella is a really, really sweet girl, Troy. I don't mind Sharpay, but she personally isn't my cup of tea." He smiled at this familiarity. "Gabriella knows you, and she loves you, she said it herself. But while a girl's love is forever, it is not abiding. Eventually, she'll forget about you and move on, although the person she was when she loved you shall still be a part of her. D-does that make sense?"

_"You look great," he offered, taking a swig of the punch—which, in spite of their mature age, was probably spiked with something—and smiling weakly._

_She blushed. "Oh, thanks. You, um, still look great."_

_The East High Class of 2008 Ten Year Reunion was quite an eccentric scene. Chad and Taylor were catering to their son who was ambling around the dance floor; Jason and Kelsi were mingling with Martha and another classmate by the snacks table; Zeke was chatting up the DJ and Ryan was talking to an old teacher. This was everyone. And now Troy and Gabriella had inadvertently bumped into one another, only to find they could think of nothing to talk about._

_"So," the woman said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, "How, um, is Sharpay?"_

_"Good," he replied, nodding feebly, "She was busy this weekend, couldn't make the gig. But, uh, she sends her love." Oh, God, he thought to himself._

_"That's nice," Gabriella replied, staring at the ground. "Well, I should probably go. Lots of stuff to do, I'm a mom now…" Her voice trailed off._

_Troy forced a smile. "You're a mom! That's great. I remember Taylor mentioning you had a daughter some time ago." He bit his lip. "Sharpay doesn't really want children, so I guess I won't be sending out new baby cards any time soon."_

_There was a pitiful tone in his voice that made her squirm. "Oh, well, they're big responsibilities. Sometimes I feel like I'm not a fit parent," she sighed, sidestepping toward the exit._

_"Of course you are," he said sadly, "You were great at everything."_

"Troy?"

He blinked, and looked up, where his mother sat, waiting patiently. Lillian smiled and stood up. "Just think about what you will do and who you are, all right?" she told him. After a moment, she added quietly, "I am very proud of you, Troy. And while your father doesn't seem like it all the time, know that he is, too. He means well, I think Bolton men just have a hard way of showing that."

…

Time to call Gabriella. As he picked up the phone, his hand trembled. "Oh, you're such a dumbass," he groaned to himself, "Just _call her_."

This was much easier said than done. Soon, a voice came through after two rings, thankfully it was Theresa's. Troy cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, can I speak to Gabriella, please? It's… a friend from school." The woman called out for her daughter and there was a moment of chatter in the background.

Finally, "Hello?" She was annoyed.

"Hi, it's, um, Troy." She clicked her tongue. "I was wondering… I know that we aren't exactly on the best of terms right now, but I just wanted to know if you maybe wanted to go to, uh, the Salutations Dance with me still."

Unbelievable! Un-freaking-believable. How could he even _suggest_ that? How? Gabriella had to bite her tongue in an effort not to laugh. "You're quite funny," she said in a sardonic tone, "Where do you come up with that stuff, it's just rich."

"Gabriella, I'm not joking—"

"And neither am I when I say goodbye," she sighed icily, setting the phone down on the receiver quietly. She could have sworn she heard a faint gasp before the line went dead on the cradle.

_Hours before the dance the next day, Gabriella gets another call._

"Gabi!" Theresa yelled out. "Phone for you!"

The girl shivered as she walked downstairs. "Oh, Mom, it's not Troy again, is it?" she grumbled. "I swear, I can't stand any more of his whiny, sorry—"

"Stop complaining and take the call," Theresa interrupted, handing the phone to her daughter. She frowned slightly. The woman actually _liked_ the Boltons, which made it difficult to listen to her daughter gripe about their son nearly every hour.

There was silence and Gabriella quirked an eyebrow. "Hello?" she said, extending the syllable so the 'oh' sound went on for a few seconds.

"Hi, um, is this Gabriella?"

"Yes." She pursed her lips as Theresa mouthed _Who is it?_ Gabriella wasn't sure.

"Oh, good. It's Ryan Evans. I was just wondering if you had a date to the Salutations Dance tonight?"


	13. Hello, Goodbye

A/N: This chapter is pretty boring, I think. I'm sorry, I was just trying to fit in one before I left for school, but today is a half day so there will definitely be another chapter up tonight! -love- Desireé

Chapter Thirteen, Hello, Goodbye

"Oh, good. It's Ryan Evans. I was just wondering if you had a date to the Salutations Dance tonight?"

She was speechless at this. An Evans, asking a Montez out? That was like a Malfoy asking a Granger: _unheard of_. Gabriella tried to ration all strength she had, wondering what exactly this boy was implying. Was her asking her to the dance? "Um," she whispered, staring at her mother a moment. Theresa raised her eyebrows. "No, I don't have one."

He was quiet for a moment. "O-okay, well, I wanted to see if you wanted to go with me. Like on a date. I mean, it can be just friends if you want, nothing romantic, but if that's cool too then maybe—" 

"I'd love to!" she blurted out suddenly, not caring about being polite. "Pick me up at six, I'll be ready. Bye, Ryan." She hung up before he could realize what he had done and quickly change his mind. Theresa stood, staring at her with a confused expression. Gabriella smiled. "I'm going to the Salutations Dance with Ryan Evans."

Count on a mother to be unaware of certain circumstances and bring up the painful past. "I thought you were going with Troy?" she asked, chewing on a fingernail. How clueless! Did she not remember the vivid detailing of the Dawn of the Bermuda Triangle?

"Well, now I'm going with Ryan," Gabriella corrected her.

"I think you should go with Troy."

"Um, and do what?" the girl said with forced laughter. "Sit around and talk about how much we have nothing in common and we're wasting our breath? Oh, that sounds like loads of fun."

Theresa was quiet for a moment, obviously hurt by her daughter's words. "I don't need to hear such blunt sarcasm, Gabriella," she said quietly. "I'm just trying to help. If you don't want to go with Troy, then don't. I'm just saying he's a good boy and he's sweet to you."

With a snort, Gabriella picked up her flat iron and headed upstairs. Under her breath, she muttered, "Sweet doesn't cut the budget, I'm afraid."

…

One thing about Ryan Evans was that he didn't cut corners. Gabriella was left speechless, again, on the porch when he rang the doorbell. Behind him, a black stretch limo hummed as it waited, the headlights swirling ahead in the darkness. The sun had set just minutes earlier, commencing the turn of Daylight Savings. "Oh my gosh," Gabriella said, her eyes wide at the sight of the carriage-like vehicle. "I mean—wow."

A laugh came from Ryan's throat. She turned to look at him, and found her eyes, without her consent, immediately flew to his lips. They looked comforting, and warm, and… Delicious. Was that wrong of her to think like that? He was, after all, Sharpay's brother and thus this would be fraternizing with the enemy. Right? She nodded, and Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Oh, um, nothing," she said hastily, shaking her head. "Just thinking."

He slid and arm around her waist and smiled. For some reason, she would have hated had Troy done this or any other boy, but Ryan just knew how to do it. Where to place his fingers, how to relax his elbow. "Let's go, then," he replied with a grin, "Off to the dance."

In the limousine, which was stocked with every kind of drink you could ever want and a flat screen TV, Gabriella kicked off her golden flats and glanced down at the forest green empire-waist dress her mother had given her to wear. Ryan was dressed in a simple sports jacket and jeans, which suddenly made her feel overdressed. "Should I go back and change?" she asked.

"No, you look great!" he told her. She felt herself smile. "Really, you look good." They were silent for a moment before Ryan said, "I was really nervous when I asked you to the dance. Since you're kind of at odds with my sister."

And a lot more people, Gabriella thought. "I know," she sighed, rubbing her shoulder. "I just… We don't have to talk about her, do we? She isn't mad you're taking me out tonight?"

He fidgeted in his seat. She gasped. "Don't tell me she doesn't know!" she said shrilly, but then giggled. "God, I sound just like her."

"I didn't think it would be a big deal for me to take you," he admitted, smiling slightly, "And besides, I'm not her puppet, she can't control me. That's Troy's—never mind."

She turned to look at him. "What?"

The limo stopped, and the driver opened their door. Ryan patted her knee and feigned relaxation. "You'll find out soon enough."

Indeed she did. The auditorium was packed with students, most of whom were giving the chaperones a heart attack by freaking and dirty dancing. Gabriella averted her glance from that particular scene to look toward the bleachers. There, on the topmost one, sat Sharpay and Troy, her breakable little body draped across his lap. The dark-haired girl felt her heart crack from the floor, and then a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Ryan. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

"Don't be sorry," she said, taking his hands in hers, "It's not any of my business to mope, and I'm your date tonight. Let's have fun, okay? Like you said, you're not Sharpay's puppet and I'm not Troy's whore."

He glanced at her. "Should I ask?"

"No." She looked down at her feet and sighed, before they headed in the direction of the punch table, where Ryan, like a gentleman, poured them each a cup. Gabriella barely had a taste of the artificial flavoring before Sharpay and Troy appeared next to them, Troy looking over apprehensively and Sharpay giving him cutesy hugs and kisses.

"They're back together, then," Gabriella sighed wistfully, and immediately felt bad for even bringing this up around Ryan, who was kind enough to take her to the dance last minute.

"Yes," he replied, looking at her with a sympathetic stare.

The Reunited It Couple passed them, and Troy said, "Hello, Gabriella," in a soft voice.

Sharpay turned and sneered, "_Goodbye_, Gabriella."

A/N: Okay, so that also a short chapter, but I hope you guys at least get the gist of where I'm going. Reviews are _sooooo_ loved! -love- Desireé


	14. Unwritten

A/N: Two things. One, I'm such a dork, I realized I forgot to mention all these chapters have song titles as their names. Maybe some already caught on to this, but I just thought I'd throw it out there. :)

And two, I'm sorry this didn't go up earlier. My stupid internet broke yesterday while I was at school, and it didn't get fixed until last night. Hopefully the length of this chapter shall suffice! -love- Desireé

Chapter Fourteen, Unwritten

It would have been safe to say a catfight nearly took place in the girls' bathroom that night. Gabriella was standing in front of the mirror, re-applying her lipstick when Sharpay walked in. The few other girls in there, a couple sophomores and a chattery group of freshmen, stopped their conversations to turn and observe the situation: Drama Queen vs. Brainiac. "Well, well, well," the blonde jeered, her lips curling condescendingly into a smile. "Look who managed to keep her hands off my boyfriend and brother in one night."

"Save it, Sharpay." Gabriella smacked her lips together and capped her lipstick tube. "I'm not interested in fighting with you."

The smirk on the drama queen's face was hideous as her eyes lit up. "Oh, really?" she laughed. "You mean, you're not interested in losing a fight with me. Is that it, _Brie?_ Is that what you're afraid of, _Brie?_ Scared to face your alpha female, _Brie?_" Every time she said her name, her voice grew crackly and bitter, like she felt her head slam every time she spoke.

Hands on her hips, Gabriella turned to Sharpay. "No, _Pay_, that isn't it. The real thing is maturity, something you obviously don't have," she said icily, "But you've got Troy. And you can keep him."

The smirk heightened. "He isn't property, Gabriella," she said airily, her eyes narrow.

"You sure do keep him on a tight leash, though," the dark-haired girl snapped back. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy myself with your _brother_. Oh, I'm sorry, you don't remember him, do you? I guess your appreciation for forced sympathy is little to none." She shoved past Sharpay for the second time in a week, and one of the ninth graders squealed in acclamation for the brunette.

The blond senior glared at the younger student. "Do not applaud her," she commanded. Stormily turning on her heel, she marched back out of the bathroom, falling into Troy's stiff arms by the punch table. Sharpay pretended not to notice the weak way he held her body.

The chaperones, by the end of the bash, seemed to have given up. Most couples were making out on the sidelines, some were grinding in the middle of the dance floor, others were sneaking cigarettes and booze in the darker parts of the school building. Gabriella sat on the bleachers next to Ryan, smiling and watching as an epidemic of laughter erupted when the speakers blasted 'Crank Dat.' "You dance much?" the drama king asked, grinning.

"Oh, not particularly," she replied as she watched Troy crisscross his legs alongside Sharpay and Chad, who were also leading the dance. "But I've got a better idea. You want to go for a walk? It's hot in here. I think I need to cool off."

"Okay." Ryan extended a hand to help her up and she stood up next to him, smiling gratefully. Their lips were close, and she wouldn't have protested had he kissed her. But that was the fine line between Ryan Evans and Troy Bolton. One was a gentleman. "Let's go."

They ended up somewhere secluded and private, where Gabriella gasped at the midnight beauty. "It's amazing from up here," she said, her jaw hanging open slightly. Ryan tapped her chin and her mouth closed, lips moving silently as she thought to herself.

"I used to come up here with my parents on summer evenings," he said fondly, "Sharpay came when we were younger, but I guess it got old after a while. Some time in the sixth grade, she stopped caring." Ryan sat on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling over the side. For some reason, Gabriella didn't feel fear as she followed suit and leaned toward the canyon.

"When's the last time you were up here?" she asked, her voice echoing down the hill. Her heel jabbed into the brown earth and a rock tumbled down, crepitating in the darkness.

He shrugged. "Maybe a year ago," the boy said, running his fingers through his well-conditioned yellow hair. "I lost track of time by the middle of junior year, when our stage stardom really started kicking off. I guess I wanted to be a part of Sharpay's day again; there's always one twin that likes the other more than the other likes them."

A smile, sweet and gentle and sorely missed, blessed her lips. "I can't see why you're that twin," she sighed. "Ryan, you've always been sweet to me and you've been especially kind in the last few months, whenever you can be, at least. Please note there is specific gratitude in my voice for you. I know there's a hardship in befriending anyone outside of Sharpay's circle."

He rolled his eyes. "Drama kids get old. I don't exactly click with anyone other than Kelsi and my sister, and that's on a good day. It would be nice to go out for a team, maybe, just because I can. Or on the decathlon club… Group. Whatever." She laughed. "Sometimes I feel like I've already got my life set up for me, but I had no say in it. Like I have a pre-determined future that aligns with the drama queen's life. Sharpay's always one step ahead of me, making sure I follow her precisely and clean up any messes she's left behind."

Pausing, Gabriella surveyed the city lights and smiled. "I'm one of those messes," she said suggestively, feeling herself being replaced with a different character. "You still up for some good old-fashioned disinfecting, Evans?"

…

They hadn't done anything, really. The limo drove them home, and Ryan kissed her sweetly when they stopped in front of her house. "Thanks again," she whispered against his lips. "I had a great time, and that's the truth." He waited until he saw she got safely inside, waving from the porch before closing the door behind her.

Theresa sat on the couch, watching a late night talk show with a cup of coffee in her hand. "How was the dance?" she asked. "Have fun with Ryan?"

"Yes, actually," Gabriella said pleasantly, taking a seat beside her mother. "We had a good time. He likes to listen and he only kissed me once."

"The boy can't be straight," Theresa teased, and Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't give me that look. There's no way in heaven or hell that a guy could keep his hands off you _and_ give thoughtful responses to your conversation."

As the show switched to commercial, Gabriella made a face. "Maybe he's just a nice guy."

"Nice guys can be gay."

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Goodnight, Gabi."

"Goodnight, Mom."

_The Bolton children have a little midnight discussion upon Troy's return._

When her brother got in the door, April Bolton was waiting patiently for his stumble to sound and his body to sway toward the couch. "Nice going, little brother," the blue-haired girl laughed. "Mom said you _still_ took Sharpay. No go with the Montez girl?"

"Don't talk to me," he moaned into a pillow.

"Don't act like such a dweeb," she retorted, coming to sit on his back. Troy groaned and April laughed. Big sisters could be such a pain. "Look, I'm going to take the chance when I say you're not really into Sharpay. Am I right?"

He said something, his voice muffled by the weight of her body. She shifted, and Troy repeated, "Yes, you're right."

"Of course I am. I just needed to hear it from you in order to continue." She smiled and ruffled his hair. "Now, let me ask you this. Are you in love with Gabriella?" There was a silence. "It's not exactly a difficult question, Troy. Just answer, yes or no."

"Nyef."

"What?" She shifted again. "Was that a mixture of no _and_ yes?"

"I said yes."

April rolled her eyes. "I thought so." She inhaled slowly and looked at the clock. Eleven fifty-three. "So, it's nearly midnight, Cinderella. What exactly were you doing with Sharpay for so long and what did you do to manage curfew and keep the glass slippers on?"

"Haha, very funny." He finally pushed off the couch with his arms and she tumbled backwards, sliding off of him. On the floor, Troy stared at the ceiling. "We were in her limo."

The blue-haired girl on the couch hummed. "A limo? Well, that's fancy. And here I thought we Boltons had it made. Go on."

"We just kind played around. She kissed me a lot. My neck, my jaw, the usual stuff. She kept implying going further, like we were being timed or something. I kept nudging her off me; I mean, damn, a limo? I kept thinking to myself, _Tacky_. But it was like Sharpay had to keep reassuring herself that we were back together."

The clock on the wall ticked. April stared at her brother through the darkness. "_Are_ you back together?" she asked.

He picked at a loose thread in the carpet. "Maybe," he replied. "I don't know."

_The conversation between Gabriella and Troy over the phone had been painstakingly brutal. He felt wretched. She hated him that much? Enough to snap at him and hang up on him? He barely had time to contemplate the rest of the situation when the phone rang again. "It's me," a voice said. Oh, fuck. Sharpay. Fuck._

_"Hi," was all he managed for a moment. His voice was dry and nearly gone._

_"Doyouhaveadateforthedance?" It shot him square in the chest, all one word but perfectly coherent. She started again, "Do you have a date… for the dance?"_

_"N-no," he stammered._

_"Great!" Her voice suddenly perked up. "I thought we could go together. I want you to know I'm so sorry for all the crap that's happened in the last few days. Maybe we can try again?"_

_"Sure," was his vocal achievement. "I'll see you at seven."_

The flashback sent chills down his spine. April cleared her throat. "Well, do _you_ think you guys are back together?"

He shrugged. "Sure," he said softly. "I mean, Sharpay's cute and she's a good girlfriend. I just don't know if I can give her everything she demands."

In the darkness, he couldn't see much, but only heard these words: "Can you give Gabriella all that she wants, which, I've heard, isn't anything but love?"

A/N: Chloe, that little conversation between Gabriella and her mother about Ryan's sexuality is dedicated to you. xD Please review, guys! Love love love. -love- Desireé


	15. Built This Way

A/N: Okay, I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, _**so**_ sorry for the wait. The details are fairly bitter, so I'll spare you all the full story, but let's just say my mother restricted from me my life (aka computer and cell phone) after I didn't clean up my room—I know, how old am I, right? I finally got the computer back today, and thankfully lots of writing fuel blessed me while I was grounded. Enjoy, and review! -love- Desireé

P.S. Is anyone having difficulty updating their profile/bio? Every time I click the 'save changes' button, nothing happens. It's a little frustrating, yet I am at a loss at what to do.

Chapter Fifteen, Built This Way

The Bermuda Triangle perpetuated into the following months like a virus. Essentially, there were two loyal sides to the school, considering Troy and Sharpay had 'made up,' but some of the basketball's steadfast friends cringed every time the blond girl came to wish her boyfriend good luck before practice, even if he reminded her they wouldn't need 'luck' to practice their free throws. "Dude, you had Gabriella in the palm of your hand," Chad sighed one November afternoon as Troy observed a hickey on his neck in the mirror. "And I'm almost positive she would have been smart enough not to leave an irritating _virus_ on your skin the day before a big game."

It was as if he was in a funhouse, and the mirror was making the mark look especially big and especially obvious. "My dad is going to kill me," Troy groaned. He rubbed the discoloration with his thumb, hoping it could perhaps disappear in the next ten minutes. "Does Taylor have cover-up or something? I need to get rid of this."

"Nah, man, she's out with the rest of her friends right now," Chad replied, clapping his friend on the back as supportively as he could. "She asked if she should come tonight, but I told her to go enjoy herself. At least she doesn't insist cheering us on from the bleachers every single freaking day. Doesn't Sharpay the mountain lion have anything better to do?"

There was little room for Troy to defend his devoted girlfriend, as Jack Bolton clapped from the locker room entrance and called out names for their pep talk. "Good luck with your—infection," Chad muttered as they walked toward the rest of the team, eyeing the only slightly fainter spot on Troy's neck. "Maybe no one will notice."

No such luck. If anything, _everyone_ saw the hickey. Even people on the last row of the bleachers saw it. And, of course, the Wildcats coach saw it. During a time out, he pulled his son aside and glowered at the splotch. "Where the hell did you get that?" he hissed, as if maybe there was a possibility it wasn't courtesy of a certain Ms. Evans.

"Dad, it's nothing," Troy said softly, reaching up to cover his neck with his hand. "Sharpay just—never mind."

"If I get so much as one comment after tonight about your little _accessory_, I swear you'll be one unhappy little teenager for the next month. It's not in my best interest to lecture you on tactfulness, Troy, so don't make me do it again," Jack snapped.

"Yes, sir," Troy grumbled, turning back to the court. He saw Sharpay wave from the stands, smiling widely and calling out his name over and over. But this time, he found it in him to ignore his personal cheerleader and turn to see a familiar face, standing between her two friends in the corner, a gentle smile dawning her lips. Gabriella, he thought, actually smiled at him. A real, actual smile. _Hi_, he mouthed.

_Hi_, she mouthed back. But the smile soon dispersed and she turned to see another face enter the gym. Ryan. He kissed her cheek and put his arm around her shoulder, directing her attention elsewhere. Troy would have felt his heart break had he any piece of his soul left to shatter, but that endeavor had happened a long time ago on one cold night when he had answered the door to the world he could come to know, and watched the world he loved walk away in an old shirt of his.

_The Bolton children have a much briefer conversation that night._

"Nice birthmark, little brother," April laughed as her father and Troy walked through the front door. The Wildcats had lost by a landslide, and the team captain's spirits seemed especially dejected as he watched Ryan and Gabriella leave the gym at the end of the rally. She had glanced over her shoulder, and gave a little wave at him as if to quickly acknowledge his presence and be on her way. He gratefully took the gesture and replayed the moment in his head, over and over. Goodbye. Goodbye. _Goodbye_.

"Shut up, April," he said tiredly. Lillian Bolton, from the kitchen, raised her eyebrows and looked at her son and daughter, her hands on her hips.

"Troy, don't talk to your sister like that, or any girl for that matter," she said firmly. Jack kissed her cheek hello and trudged upstairs, probably to lock himself away in his office like he always did. Troy wished he could do that in his bedroom, but someone was always right behind him to drag him back out again.

Dinner was set on the table for three, while the fourth plate was carried up to the father. Troy and April leaned over their food, stabbing the chicken and scooping the mashed potatoes quietly until their mother returned. "So," Lillian began, "How was the game, honey?"

"We lost, Mom."

The woman half-smiled. "I know that, Troy. But what happened? Did you guys have an injured teammate? How was your father—_what is that on your neck?_" While April snickered, Troy reached up to cover the blemish. Lillian's mouth was a straight line as she asked, in a tone that hoped she was wrong, "Is that a hickey?" Similar parenting tactics.

"No, it's just a—I mean—yes, Mom, it's a hickey." The boy stared down at his half-cleared plate, chewing on his lower lip. His mother paused for a moment, palms pressed together as she put her fingertips to her lips.

"I assume your father saw it."

"Yes, he did."

"And what did he say?"

"Nothing memorable."

"_Troy_."

He sighed. "He wasn't happy, if that's what you're asking."

Lillian picked up her fork again. "Well, I suppose things could be worse." She sifted through her potatoes before setting the utensil down again. "Kids, I'm tired tonight. You may eat in your rooms if you like, I'm going to go up to bed."

The children kissed their mother good night and when Lillian had gone, April glimpsed at her brother. "Come on," she finally said, "Up to my room. You obviously are naïve to the hickey experience, there's some strategy in the game of hiding them later." Troy followed her upstairs, watching his father's closed office door and his mother's closed bedroom door as they passed.

"You wear make-up?" the teenager asked as he stepped into his sister's room. It certainly had been a while since he had seen her poster-stricken walls and messy floors. April had promenaded to her dresser and was now dissecting the contents of a large purple box with a lock on the front.

"Of course not, I prefer to go _au naturel_," she replied, picking up a sponge-like swab with one brown and one tan colored side. "But I keep some fundamental things—foundation, blush, bronzer—at hand for emergencies." His confused stare didn't leave her, and April added with a scoff, "To eclipse that moon on your neck, genius."

"Oh." He smiled halfheartedly and glanced around the room. Posters of her childhood idols like Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake were devoted to an exclusive corner, along with the Backstreet Boys and Christina Aguilera. More recent pictures were cut out pages of fashion magazines and newspapers, but one particular placard caught his attention. 'The Albuquerque Youth Center proudly presents the Role Model of the Month.'

Gabriella Montez, and all her beauty.

…

The phone rang and Theresa peered at her daughter hopefully. Gabriella sighed and interrupted her comfort on the sofa to retrieve the call, pressing 'talk' on the speakerphone cradle. "Hello?" she answered patiently.

"Hi, it's Ryan. Is Gabriella there?"

She smiled. "It's me."

"Oh, good. Sometimes I worry if your mom picks up and I think it's you—well, trust me, I can ramble." He gave a half-laugh, and she grinned again, looking at her mother, who was mouthing something that looked like _Jack's twin from 'Will and Grace_.' She stuck her tongue out at Theresa and turned back to the phone, where Ryan was thanking her for the good time that night.

"Of course, I had a lot of fun, actually," she said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Oh, goodness, like Daisy. Crap. "We should do it again some time."

There was a slamming of doors in the background, and she cringed. Ryan huffed. "Sorry, that was just my sister being a drama queen again. I think she's mad at me. But whatever. Anyway—how about next week, Wednesday night? Sharpay and my mom insist on watching 'America's Next Top Model' with them, but I'm beginning to despise the show, even if I love a good catwalk."

Theresa was now having a fit of laughter in the background. Gabriella hissed at her to be quiet and inhaled quickly before saying, "Next Wednesday sounds great. Pick me up at six?"

"It's a date."

…

The world was, once again, ending abruptly. Sharpay could feel the heat rush to her head as she leaned over the side of her bed, tears streaming up her forehead, according to the gravitational law. How could Gabriella be named the Role Model of the Month for the _third time_? It was impossible! No human being could ever be better than her, the Queen Bee. Across the room, Daisy sat on the fuzzy pink couch located in the corner, looking at a fashion fanzine with newly manicured nails, which prevented her from any hair curling that night. The drama queen glanced at her with a fury so severe that not only heaven and hell felt it, but the other side of the earth, as well. "What do you propose we do?" Sharpay demanded.

Daisy looked up, her jaw moving in a figure eight as her gum squished between her ghostly white teeth. "About what?" she asked, her voice still even. The empty disinterest in her eyes was apparent, but her tone gave nothing away.

"About Troy and Gabriella!" Sharpay said fiercely. She sat up, wiping her face carefully so not to smear her eyeliner. "The first plan backfired immensely, but we've learned from those mistakes, Daisy! Now we have an even better tactic: my brother. However incomprehensible it is, he likes her and they're stirring up new couple rumors. Now with an Evans as the bait, there's no possible way that the prey can end up hurting the predator."

The Winger child blew a bubble with her gum. "You watch too many _National Geographic_ specials, Evans," she sighed. Sharpay harrumphed. "I don't understand why you're freaking out about this. Didn't you get what you want? Didn't you get Troy and all your renown? What else do you want?"

Terror flooded Sharpay's face. "I can't believe what I'm hearing!" she cried. "I—I thought we were a team! We could, together, successfully ruin Gabriella! Wasn't that the original idea? This stupid girl takes away my praise, my worship, and you agree to help me get her back. That was our plan, Daisy, and now we have the chance to fix our errors! She's ruining me, what with her freaking charm capturing my brother and Troy. Oh yes, I saw him look at her today at the game. I was the hurrah, the cheers and shouts coming from the bleachers, but he still ignored me and looked at her! What does she have that I don't?"

For a moment, Daisy chewed on her gum and pulled a piece with her finger. Sharpay scrunched up her nose and the other girl looked at her. "Why don't you ask yourself this, Evans? What do _you_ have that she doesn't? The answer might be a little less miserable." She stood up and saluted the drama queen, before flourishing her gum again and exiting the room. Another departure from the Melancholy Sanctum of Sharpay Evans.

…

_Ding dong. Ding dong_. "Okay, okay, I'm coming," Theresa murmured, quickly trotting down the stairs to hurry to the front door. Gabriella, she saw, had fallen asleep on the couch doing homework. She would have to get up early tomorrow to finish. Her mother unlocked the front door after regarding the person outside. "Yes, can I help you?" Behind her, the clock read ten-thirty.

On the porch, a different one this time, was Sharpay, holding a piece of paper. "I'm so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Montez, but I go to school with your daughter, and I just had this to give to her. She's going on a date tomorrow with my brother, and I just wanted her to read this before she heard any more news about me from him. If anyone's going to make a second impression of me on her, then I'd like it to be from me."

Squinting in the dim light, Theresa nodded. "Ah, you're Sharpay," she said. The drama queen looked at her with round eyes, and the woman tilted her head to one side. "I've heard about you."

"I apologize ahead of time, then," replied the girl.

"No, don't be sorry. I was like you at one point in my life. Senior year, ahead of my time, with everyone on the earth begging for my approval. I don't look like much now, but once before I had a guy on my arm and a girl at my side and the world behind me. Now I have a daughter, who's had a few run-ins with you before. I've met some Gabriellas before. And you will again, too. But don't be sorry. It's the flaws we have that make us who we are—we're just built that way. You can have two thin, tan, tall, blond models but one can be clumsy and the other a perfect, poster child. Honestly, I think the klutz would be a better friend. Just more human.."

The girl, whose hair was a little less teased and whose eye shadow was not as thick as per usual, smiled. "I'll remember that," she said softly, and extended her hand. "Could you just give this to Gabriella? No explanation necessary, it's all in there." Theresa took the paper and Sharpay thanked her, turning to walk toward the street again, where a car was parked, blinking as she clicked the unlock button.

"Mom?" Gabriella sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Who was at the door?"

"A friend," Theresa responded, walking over to lean against the couch. She observed the piece of paper before handing it to her daughter. "She stopped by to give it to you."

At the top of the page, in thick black Sharpie and big, straight writing, was 'What I Love by Sharpay Evans.' And a note at the bottom, addressed to Gabriella, 'I've thought about what you told me, the night I came to Troy's house and you were there. I'm sorry I've been such a—you know. I'm not sure if this list holds any interest for you, but I wanted you to know I wrote it out. It feels good to get these things off my chest.'

The list began with expected things like pink and the world 'fabulousness' and her dog and her pink convertible, all up in the 90s and 80s. As the items continued, though, Gabriella found herself smiling. Sharpay had thought of one hundred things to love, and soon she mentioned Ryan and her mother and her father and—Troy. The dark-haired girl read that line, which weighed in at number one, fifty times before she finally sniffled and brushed away her tears. In spite of her happiness for the drama queen, she was still angry. That didn't even _sound_ probable. Sharpay loves Troy. No, it didn't seem justifiable. As for Troy loves Sharpay… That was still unforgivable.

Another note at the bottom: 'I guess in the end I wanted to beat you at being the best. But right now it seems like you're the luckiest girl in the world.'


	16. Screaming Infidelities

A/N: Oh, the last part of the latest chapter is a little confusing… But, in essence, if you lovely friends refer back to the eleventh chapter, Gabriella has a small speech at the end that dictates some morality toward Sharpay. And after Daisy's very rare principles disquisition, the drama queen, I decided, would have a change of heart. In case any are still pondering, this will be further explained in the next chapter.

Haha, today I watched 'High School Musical' with this little girl I babysat this morning, and I finally caught the Pink Jelly quip… Before I was always like "What are they talking about?!" whenever someone mentioned that line. So I get it now:)

On another note, I have a new story up! Don't worry, Poster comes first, but the idea for Thirteen Years Without You has been driving me batty for a few days now. :) If you please, ahem, read and review? I'd be so grateful. The next chapter for that story should be up tonight and if not the, tomorrow morning, just waiting for a little more feedback. Thanks guys! -love- Desireé

Chapter Sixteen, Screaming Infidelities

As she watched the smooth yellow fabric cascade down her shoulders and swim around her curves, Gabriella felt good to ready for her date with Ryan. She, for the first time in a while, felt worthy and wanted, in spite of the somewhat sullen look from Troy when she spoke to the drama king that Wednesday after school. The Wildcats captain eavesdropped quite obviously, shaking off the accusation later when Sharpay came flouncing down the hallway, following his line of vision to her brother and the brainiac. The ice queen leaned against her boyfriend, hands on his cheeks as she whispered something delicately against his lips. Ryan had made a face and he ushered Gabriella away, much to Troy's dismay.

Now, at approximately six-thirty, she was standing in front of her mirror, admiring all the things someone as sweet as Ryan would appreciate. Just as she hooked the clasp of her turquoise bracelet, there was a knock on her bedroom door. "Gabi," Theresa called from the other side. "Are you almost ready? Liberace should be here quite soon."

Eyes searing, Gabriella opened the door to a smirking woman. "Mother, stop it," she moaned with a slight flare of irritation in her tone, "Ryan's very nice, can't you just accept the fact that he likes me? I mean, there are plenty of good things to come with his appreciation for fashion. Ever heard of metrosexual?"

The smirk didn't waver as Theresa's nose twitched from side to side. "Ever heard of skeletons in the closet, child?" she berated pleasantly. "Now, I didn't come up here to get grilled by you, there is actually another visitor for you at the door. Quite popular nowadays, Gabi."

The girl cocked an eyebrow. "Who?" she said inquisitively. Theresa smiled and pointed down the hallway.

"Find out for yourself," the mother replied, standing back to watch her daughter slouch and drag her feet to the front door. Gabriella felt her heart plummet when she saw none other than Troy Bolton standing tentatively on the porch, hands plunged into pockets. He looked up with a slight ounce of hope in his gaze, and she grimaced.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, stabbing her palm with the tip of a bobby pin. "I would assume you'd be out with Sharpay now. She's especially protective of you, _Troyie_." Her voice quivered as she added the 'ee' sound onto the end of his name.

He sneered, "As is Ryan of you, _Gabs_." She hated the fact that a part of her regretted not hearing the name 'Brie' come from his lips. She rolled her eyes and Troy bit down on his lip, the contemptuous smile disintegrating to an earnest plea. "Look, I-I came, I came here to say I was sorry. I just don't think that… How could you go out with _Ryan Evans?_ I mean, he's practically out of the closet already—"

"Ha! I told you!" hollered Theresa from the other room. Gabriella cringed.

"—and there is no way in hell a guy like him could be into you," Troy finished. The girl in front of him put her hands on her hips and he got the message. "No! That's not what I meant! It's just, I mean, come on, Gabriella, there's no way he's straight."

Thoroughly angry, she leaned outside and pressed the doorbell, before putting a hand to her ear. "Who's there? I can't tell… Hmm. Something that sounds like… bullshit? Oh, of course! That's it!" she said mock-jubilantly. Gabriella waved dismissively at Troy. "I don't see why you care that I have a date with Ryan tonight. You're going out with Sharpay anyway ; unless, oh, have you guys fake broken up again?"

Hurt flooded his face, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek. "No, we haven't but," Troy said weakly, "I can't take it anymore, Gabriella. Can't you just forgive me one more time? I know I screwed up before and maybe I'll screw up again, but that's why we make mistakes! To learn from them! Don't you remember the night you were at my house, when you put on one of my shirts—" here she realized she still had this piece of clothing at the bottom of her hamper "—and started singing 'Breaking Free?' That was more than I ever wanted in my life, and all I could think was how awful it would be when this scheme came crashing down. I wanted to fix it before it was too late, but Sharpay kind of interrupted us." He sighed. "It was such a good night, Brie."

Now she knew why it hadn't been so bothersome to hear another nickname from him. As soon as the affectionate term hit her ears, Gabriella felt like screaming. "Troy, I don't care what you think about that night, because all it is to me is a memory. Let's just it at that. I don't want you getting into any more trouble with Sharpay, and there's no way I want to hurt Ryan."

In the movies, when two characters were about to kiss, one of them came nine-tenths of the way and let the other cover the leftover distance. Troy leaned down toward her, arms up against the doorway for support. Gabriella surprised herself most when she didn't respond with anything but a disgusted snap, "Don't you dare _kiss_ me."

His eyes, clouded with wretchedness, narrowed slightly. "Just one more kiss," he asked, "It's all I can say after we've gone across the world and back. One kiss to prove you are completely over me and I will never bother you again."

A sigh escaped her lips. Gabriella reached up, cupping his face and let her mouth press against his. Of course, being a boy, his tongue grazed hers once or twice, before she pulled back a few centimeters and whispered, "Let's get one thing straight, Bolton: I was never into you to begin with." He smiled slightly, as if he also knew this was a lie.

…

The kiss, in secret, was amazing. Shocking. Incredible. Gabriella, being Gabriella, would have had to make a list just to get all the adjectives clearly established. Troy, being Troy, would have had to let the world know he had kissed the girl he loved, who wasn't his girlfriend. And, of course, being Troy, he let a few people know.

"Goodness," April sighed when her brother, unusually bubbly later that week, told her the news. "I suggest you choose right now, Troy. I know it's a crazy thought, but girls don't exactly like it when their boyfriends kiss other girls."

He faked a haha for her sake. "Obviously. I'm not as dumb as you think, April," he said indignantly. She shrugged.

"I never said you were dumb, Troy. Just a little irrational."

"Whatever."

"I still suggest you make a decision and quickly, perhaps. My advice would be Gabriella. Sharpay is… unusually self-absorbed." The blue-haired girl smiled with Anime-like eyes and Troy slapped a hand to his forehead as he groaned.

…

00Bookworm: lucky girl!

breaking free 14: what why?

00Bookworm: duh, you've got Ryan Evans at your feet. he's like _addicted_ to you.

breaking free 14: you and Kelsi are so stupid sometimes. he is not addicted to me. we're just highly fascinated with one another.

00Bookworm: that's an understatement. you know, I always assumed he was gay. have you _counted_ how many hats he wears? and never more than once!

breaking free 14: I can't remember when exactly it was that you got so much time on your hands.

00Bookworm: we're girls, we know everything. don't you know that Troy Bolton still loves you?

…

The list Sharpay wrote seemed meaningless that Friday. The drama queen had been absent for a few days, and it was rumored that she took a personal holiday in spite of the upcoming exams. Gabriella expected her to come back a changed person, with a goal for world peace and to end the hunger in poverty-stricken countries and all that jazz. But, soon it was discovered that Sharpay was still Sharpay.

The brainiac girl smiled softly at the blonde when they passed in the hall. They of course had their differences—it seemed somewhat improbable that they would ever become friends with the aspect of their love lives to be considered. But Gabriella hoped that maybe the list brought good things, a change of heart included. The cheerleaders, the jocks, the mathletes, the skaters, everyone at East High wondered where it was that she had gone for two days. Ms. Montez imagined somewhere that the drama queen's money could benefit the relief efforts; but this was unlikely.

In her mind, Gabriella imagined Sharpay coming back to school with vaccination shots in her arms and pictures to share of the faces she'd met on the other side of the world. Certainly not. The real Sharpay returned to school with a Tahiti tan and a designer hobo bag, her heels clacking along the hallway floor as she texted furiously into her Chocolate. When the drama queen saw a smile out of the corner of her eye, she hissed at Gabriella. The look on her face said there had been no changes of heart during vacation.

"Don't worry about it," Ryan told her wholeheartedly as she packed her bag for the weekend, books tumbling from her locker into the pack. "I think she is just afraid to be different around everyone. She doesn't want the limelight to change."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Whatever, let's not talk about it," she said, taking Ryan's hand. "Let's go see a movie. Escape the world of high school. I was thinking an indie flick."

"What about that new Jennifer Garner movie? I think it's a romantic comedy," he said. Theresa's voice echoed in her daughter's head, laughing as it admonished the peculiarity of Ryan's sexual preference. Gabriella shammed a smile and nodded before walking down the hallway in the grip of her new boyfriend. Unfortunately, she was beginning to wonder about her mother's intuitions.

Someone whistled as they walked by, and she turned to see Chad laughing with his buddies. Taylor waved hopelessly next to him; Gabriella looked past to spot Troy, who was sickeningly-sweetly kissing Sharpay. There was no jealousy anymore. Just regret.


	17. Stay With You

A/N: Chloe, that little story you just made up made me laugh! I have the feeling I shall be writing a little oneshot about that, and it'll probably stay in my hard drive lest I send it to you. :P But I sincerely want to write that now.

Thanks guys for the reviews! Don't worry, I am a sucker for happy endings—and if this story didn't end happily, it wouldn't be bittersweet as the alternate ending to my Threeshot it. Simply bitter, is more like it. So don't fret! This shall end on a good note.

I'm glad Theresa's theory on Ryan's sexuality is amusing, because I have an aunt just like that with my cousin's boyfriend, who wears hats _all the time_. And never once, as Taylor said. :)

You know, I'm very sorry. Looking through this story, I realized the time continuity is a bit off. Apologies for that… I'm still trying to figure out what month it is right now (in the story. :D) So, um, if it should be December and I make it November, please excuse me. I'm just going to make it December for the sake of an idea in my head, and have it at that. Ah-greed? -love- Desireé

Chapter Seventeen, Stay With You

The thing that Gabriella appreciated most about Ryan was his honesty and compassion. One rainy winter day, after many Jennifer Garner movies, they sat on the Montez porch, her slender figure beneath his arm as they rocked back and forth on the wooden swing. "I think we should break up," he sighed quietly. She froze and looked up at him with troubled eyes. "G, it's obvious you still love Troy. And not in that first love way; in that 'fuck I can't stop thinking about him because I still love him' way." There was a certain tone in his voice that indicated Ryan had had this feeling before, and that the second pronoun remained 'him.'

A puddle formed on the patio in a few seconds, and Gabriella resisted the urge to get up and splash around in the miniature pond. She gazed into Ryan's eyes, and felt herself sigh, simply out of frustration. "The sad part is," she said after she nodded, "you were the only one to notice. It's like the world got tired of our arguing and our stupid drama, so it moved on. But I stayed behind, and I feel so odd and out of place. Like I want to move ahead but I can't. And on some days, I just want to stop everything and kiss him, like that DEAR program in elementary? Drop Everything And Read? It's like Drop Everything And Kiss Troy Bolton."

Two sighs echoed around the yard, and Gabriella sat up, glancing at Ryan tentatively. "Did you just _sigh?_" she asked, slightly incredulous, slightly expectant. "Over the thought of kissing… Troy?"

He smiled and shrugged. "I don't know," the drama king said in a blissful voice. "Not necessarily him. Just guys in general. They're so much easier to understand, you know what I mean? It's just, Jesus knows my sister is one of the most complex beings on the face of this planet. And you, Gabriella, have always puzzled me in such a way that I almost thought maybe I _did_ like girls. But it really was that admirable bewilderment—the kind that made me feel happy when I was around you. Who knows? You're a much more gentle, _quieter_ version of Sharpay. I think that's why I like being next to you. You're just the right kind of girl with less crisis."

It looked as though rain had fallen on Gabriella as tears streaked her cheeks. She beamed and wrapped her arms around Ryan's neck, whispering, "You don't know how much that means to me right now," into his ear as he laughed lightheartedly. When they withdrew, she dabbed her face and chuckled softly. "I have wanted to hear those words for so long, it's only plausible that you tell me. Everyone else is just so busy they can't stop to see me bleeding, or breaking. One day I wish I'd just keel over but my soul could stick around to see what people would do."

As the rain began to lighten and sun eventually punctured the heavy overcast, Ryan kissed her cheek and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I can't speak for a lot of people, but I think I know what I'm talking about when I say Troy Bolton would get down on his knees to check your pulse and give you CPR."

…

There was so much heaviness in Troy's face when he arrived at practice weeks later, his father pulled him aside while the rest of the team ran drills. "You all right, Troy?" Jack asked his son, hand on the teenager's shoulder in an effort to support him. "You look sick."

"So I've been told," Troy mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Look, Dad, would it be okay if I go home? I think I'm getting the flu, and Mom told me not to strain myself this morning—I'll do extra training tomorrow, okay? But I think I just need to sleep."

The coach hesitated for a moment, before nodding. "Go home, get some rest, and don't get out of bed. April is home, she can bring you chicken soup or something, all right?" This was evidence in how poor Jack Bolton's parenting skills were when it came to his children's weaknesses; if one would refer back to their childhood lessons, it was clearly stated that the flu called for 7-Up, _not_ Progresso.

In spite of this error, Troy nodded. "Okay," he agreed, and started for the locker room. Chad caught up with him, curls bouncing with his body as he jogged beside his friend.

"Dude, are you going home?" the right-hand-man asked, following the captain closely. Chad squinted. "Is that another hickey?"

Troy's hand flew up to his neck and he swore under his breath. "I'm going to break up with her," he said solemnly, "_Fuck_, I am breaking up with Sharpay Evans as soon as I get out of this sweat sponge of a room."

A snicker found its way across Chad's face but soon scurried off when Troy caught sight of it. "You said that last week," the friend said meekly to the sickly-looking all star. "And the week before."

"Yeah, but this time I mean it." A none-too-convincing tone was scattered across Troy's lips.

"So what'd she do now?" Chad said curiously, scrutinizing the spot on his friend's neck. "Isn't that like the sixth one in the last two weeks? What do you guys do after school?"

Throwing on his shirt, Troy furrowed his eyebrows at his best friend. "Did," he corrected Chad, "We _did_ each other after school, and she barely ever gave me a second glance every freaking time she rolled off the bed to go get her Voss or whatever the hell it is that her mother makes her drink. All she cares about is that she beat Gabriella. _I'm tired of it_." Then a sad look crept into his eyes. "Gabriella was so beautiful after that night. She just picked out one of my shirts, and she started to sing. She tried to get me to dance, and I didn't. I should have." He cracked a thumb. "Damn it, I should have."

The concern that _should_ have been in Chad's voice was barely there. He clapped Troy on the shoulder and said the blunt, ugly truth: "It's been a few months now, man. If you're looking to reconcile with Gabriella, it's a little late. And I know it sucks, but you have to face it, T. You sold your soul a long time ago, and Satan gives no refunds."

A/N: Short chapter, I know! But it's key to the story, I promise. And this doesn't back up my reassurance to a happy ending, but have faith, friends. -love- Desireé


	18. The Future Freaks Me Out

A/N: Oh yeah, if anyone saw my other story, I took it down again. :P I know, I'm insanely indecisive—but I decided it would be better to just wrap Poster up neatly (by the way, there should be four or five more chapters) and then introduce Thirteen Years Without You, so enjoy for now!

On a totally random note, I took a big math test yesterday, and I studied my butt off the night before after struggling for the last couples months. Wish me luck!

This should be my last update until Saturday. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Hope you have a happy holiday weekend.

Finally, I actually enjoyed writing the last chapter. It was fun to do the conversations, and I do think Ryella friendship is so much better than a romance. By the way, the lyrics here are James Blunt's 'I Can't Hear the Music.' Your reviews are _wonderful!_ -love- Desireé

Chapter Eighteen, The Future Freaks Me Out

_Is it a warning? Is it an evil sign?_

Sometimes boys weren't exactly dandy when it came to communication. They evaded honesty; some opted for lies, whiles others chose silence. In either case, the girlfriend always became upset by the end of the day. This lesson Troy must have forgotten, when he didn't mention his plans for Splitsville with Sharpay, who, incidentally, was on the defensive side around the time of the team captain's meltdown. Once Ryan and Gabriella agreed to a cordial friendship, the drama queen had the gut feeling that her romantic territory was about to be invaded once again by a particular dark-haired brainiac. This triggered a possessive trait inside her, one that many would find necessarily called 'ugly.'

"Montez!" Sharpay barked, Daisy-style. The Winger girl had been seldom seen with the drama queen lately, after she chose to make a comfortable spot in the skater club. Still, she watched carefully as her former BFF (lyk ttly!) confronted Gabriella, who had been enjoying a laugh with Kelsi and Ryan at one of the picnic tables. "Any particular reason you decided to desert my brother?"

Sensing danger, Ryan quickly interfered. "No hard feelings, Shar," he assured firmly, standing up so his slim build came between the blonde and brunette. "It was a mutual decision."

"That's not why I'm here," Sharpay snapped, shoving Ryan aside. He stood up again though, and there was a few whispers as his hat fell off and the drama king decided _not_ to pick it up. His sister put his hands on her hips. "Stop trying to play the hero, Ryan."

_Is it a people who have lost their mind?_

A crowd had assembled around them again. Gabriella leaned forward, her arms resting on her knees as she peered at Sharpay, who snarled a somewhat paranoid "What?!" To this, the brainiac smiled and shrugged. "Nothing," she answered calmly. "Sharpay, I know why you're here." The drama queen laughed, and Gabriella simpered again. "No, I really do. You're here because you think I love Troy, and I shall threaten your 'throne' as his queen. After all, I would think you remember having this conversation with me already, but I will refresh your memory: of course I love him. And not in that first love way, in that fuck I can't stop thinking about him way." Ryan winked at her, and she caught this. "But you have nothing to worry about. I am—"

"Nothing!" Sharpay spat. Her eyes were dark and vicious, biting horribly like a stray dog, trained to attack strangers over its years on the street. "You are _nothing_, Gabriella. So wipe that damn smirk off your face because it doesn't belong there. Don't even think Troy loves you back, because it's not true and I can see you think it in your face. You think you both will always ponder about each other and do anything for one another, in spite of the fact that you will move on to other people. That is dead wrong. He thinks nothing of you, he told me so."

There was an effort in the way Gabriella had to conceal her pain. She bit the inside of her cheek once again, and fiddled with an everlasting hole in the knee of her jeans. "No, he didn't," she whispered weakly.

"Yes, he did," Sharpay announced, turning to the student body. "He says you were simply a footnote to his life. Just a little obstacle in the road." The drama queen leered, her eyes closed for a moment as she did an almost-curtsy. "I suppose he couldn't take it anymore. I mean—really. How could he ever love someone like _you_, Gabriella?" She said 'you' accusingly, as if a person could help who the turned out to be in the world.

_Is it the darkness? Is it a man resigned?_

People watched expectantly. Gabriella, whose strength was dwindling profoundly with every new pair of eyes directed at her, stuttered for a moment. "I—he did love me," she said, her voice barely above a squeak. "He loved me, and I love—love him." Someone cried out victoriously, and there was silence again.

"Past tense," Sharpay declared. "You still love him but he _loved_ you, Gabriella." She growled in a low, throaty hiss that sent shivers down her brother's back, "I will make sure it stays that way."

In a panic, Kelsi said exasperatedly, "You're so selfish, Sharpay!" A few people gasped and the pianist paused for a moment, as if considering what the next words could do to her social reputation. "You think the world revolves around you, but it doesn't! Have you ever met someone with cancer? With no money? With no food, or insurance? You're so sheltered, Sharpay, which veils the real truths the world has from your petty little vision. Can't you just…" The drama queen, however, seemed to silence her with a venomous glare.

"Shut up!" she squealed angrily. She turned back to her original prey, and for a moment, the brunette saw a small glint of shame, penitence, _remorse_. While the drama queen continued to vent her triumphant feelings, Gabriella saw the very underwhelming yet simultaneously overwhelming fraction of guilt in the eyes of Sharpay Evans, whose cold stare had gotten a notorious stature over the years. "Face it, Montez," the blonde hissed, and up until now, Gabriella hadn't heard her at all, caught in the trance of amazement at the possibility of self-reproach, "I won. And you lost. And everybody can hear the damn music this time."

_Is it a best friend leaving you behind?_

No one had any idea where Troy was that day, with the exception of Chad. He, the American loyalist in this Colonies vs. England war, knew that the captain was violently ill, to the point where blue-haired April had obtained the role as caretaker and nurse until her brother regained his health. Chad had gotten a specific request from Lillian Bolton to retrieve all the homework and any classroom instructions for Troy—he, evidently, wouldn't be back for a while.

"Thanks," April said blandly when she took the load of textbooks from the best friend that day. "You want to see Troy? It'll give me ten minutes to myself. He's quite needy when he's sick." She frowned at this, supposedly like a loving yet disdainful older sister should.

Setting his backpack down at the front, Chad nodded with a halfhearted smile and walked aimlessly through the hallways before he found Troy's room. The boy was sitting on the edge of his bed, hovering over the support of an empty wastebasket. "Shit," Chad mused when Troy glanced up, pale-faced and red-eyed.

"Yeah, I feel like it," the hotshot moaned. "Fucking flu. I want to puke but damn it, there's nothing to throw up."

_Is it ever gonna stop? Will they ever let you go?_

"You, um, need anything?" Chad, an only child who eluded most responsibility over other things, was new to this. When he received no response, he cleared his throat and made a face. "The hickey is gone."

"Thanks for the memo," Troy said under his breath. Perhaps it was the comfort of the bin beneath his unsteady body, but the bucket seemed to serve little purpose otherwise. "Anything good happen today at school?"

The computer in the corner hummed a dull, sleepy roar. "Actually, yes." Chad sniffed desultorily, his hands folding and unfolding. "Um, there was a little showdown between Sharpay and—" He stopped as Troy sat up again, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, although there didn't seem to be anything in need of clearing.

"I'm going to go change, and then we'll shoot hoops outside. Okay? I feel like crap, I need to get my ass out of bed and just get outside." The boy disappeared for a moment, before he reemerged in a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt. "Just like new. Right?"

Sure, Chad thought unconvincingly. "Yes," he responded. "Just like new. Now, come on, dude, don't punk out. Let's hit the court."

_You're in a rush, they don't care enough 'cause their lives are very slow._

April had acquired a fairly motherly persona that day, and she agreed to make cookies while her brother and the confidant played an idle game of b-ball. "So, what happened?" Troy asked when they finally reached the backyard. Sunlight, it turned out, was unflattering for most sick people. In his room, he appeared anemic and sallow; outside, he was downright white. "At school, I mean."

"Oh." Now the news of Sharpay's fight with Gabriella seemed insignificant, if not completely catastrophic to Troy's barely-there state of mind. "Um, just another pop quiz in science. Nicola Frasier got a nosebleed during the assembly today, so we wasted even more class time. But nothing special."

The hotshot, despite his ailment, had a good memory. "But you mentioned Sharpay—what about her?" Troy inquired, tossing the basketball toward the hoop. _Swish_. Lucky bastard. Always got the upper hand of things, even when he looked like half a piece of blackboard chalk in the fading daylight.

"She, I mean… Um, Gabriella…" Chad felt his voice die away. Damn it. Now Troy, audaciously curious of anything he didn't already know about, would ask _more_ questions. The best friend finally finished, "They. Had. Another. Fight. Today." He paused, before adding, "About. You."

This didn't help, certainly not at all. If it was possible, Troy's face went a shade whiter, and he dropped the ball, ignoring it as it bounded across the yard. "You're not serious," he said hopefully, "All that happened today was Nicola Frasier's nosebleed and the pop quiz. Please tell me that was all."

"Sorry, man," Chad said quietly. "That wasn't all."

…

_Time is ticking on. You don't get a second shot._

The Escape was a soaring dragon, dashing dangerously fast down the highway as Gabriella drove, drove, drove. She didn't know where to go; as someone yelled at her for exceeding the speed limit and she responded with a balled fist, she contemplated what distant relatives there were to shelter her for one night. Aunt Melanie lived in Phoenix, but that was so far, the girl knew it would be only her luck to get lost.

In reality, Gabriella didn't want to _really_ leave. She just wanted everyone else to go. Except for Ryan. He could stay. But everyone could hit the road for all she cared.

And everybody could hear the damn music this time.

Maybe her mom could come back to visit on the desolate island of Gabryan. ('Ryella' was beginning to get on her nerves.) Taylor and Kelsi could drop by once in a while, too, so long as they mentioned nothing of their high school days. But Troy and Sharpay would have to stay away. Gabriella would have burst into tears if she saw their faces one more time.

And everybody could hear the damn music this time.

Driving relaxed her. It always had, ever since she got behind the wheel of that beat-up little Corolla at the driving school. The teacher, a balding man with broken Clark Kent glasses, seemed especially nervous as she made sharp turns on the road, but the written exam got Gabriella to pass with flying colors. That had been so long ago. Now she felt like she was black and white, inside and out.

And everybody could hear the damn music this time.

_And when you sell your soul for a leading role, will the Lost Souls be forgot?_

Her face shining, she coughed hazardously as she ran a red light, a honking car screaming angry at her from to the left. Gabriella shuttered and finally pulled off to the shoulder. She coughed again and looked in the mirror. Little rivers streaked her cheeks, marking her hopelessness with a noticeable sheen. "I can't hear the fucking music," she mumbled. It was then that she realized she had sworn more often in the last school year than in her entire life.

There had been days, when she first met the Bolton Golden Boy, when she imagined what their children would look like. Their oldest son would be the laidback athlete who, in spite of his father's effort not be like Jack Bolton, would get upset from all the pressure he received. Their daughters would be beautiful, one exactly like Gabriella and the other exactly like Troy, but appearances switched. An athletic brunette, a studious dirty blonde. That sounded so nice. And now, the chances had gone.

_And if I can't hear the music and the audience is gone_

"Mom?" she answered delicately when her cell phone rang alarmingly from inside her purse.

"Goodness gracious, Gabriella. I thought you were dead or something," Theresa said furiously. "Do you know what not a single phone call can do to a worrisome mother?"

Make her daughter go crazy? Gabriella guessed silently. "Sorry," she apologized coolly. "I wasn't thinking."

"The hell you weren't!" Theresa snapped. "Where are you, and what is so great about the place that you forgot to call me?"

Gabriella looked at a road sign a few yards away. _Albuquerque Borders, 10 Miles_. "Um, just at the mall," she lied. "I'll come home now."

_I'll dance here on my own._

The woman on the other end of the line seemed surprised at this, as if she expected her daughter to put up a fight. But Gabriella was horribly tired, she didn't have one ounce of strength in her to protest. "Honey, are you all right?" Here's the soft, motherly tone now that Gabriella didn't need it. Figures.

"Mom, can I tell you something? An idea of mine? I need your permission in order to do it. And you'll say no right away at first, but you have to promise to hear me out." The girl waited patiently for a response.

"O-okay," Theresa agreed with an unsteady voice. "What is it?"

…

_And I hope the Lonely Hearts Club Band will play out one last song_

There is an infinite amount of pain in the world, regardless of a targeted victim's feelings on the matter. Sharpay, honestly, felt less like the predator and more like the prey that afternoon as their driver picked her and Ryan up. "Good day, Ms. Evans," Joseph, the old man who had chauffeured the wealthy family for a running twenty-two years, greeted the girl. She nodded promptly and ducked into the backseat of the white Mercedes.

Rain began to fall on the way home. Sharpay stared out the window until she could no longer stand the tension inside the car. She turned to her brother and her nose twitched. "Why don't I feel like I've really won, Ryan?"

He winced, and thought of how to respond. "Maybe because you haven't," he said, his voice raspy. In spite of his annoyance toward her lack of discernment for the feelings of others, he was still her twin, her brother, her flesh and blood. "Maybe because the world's war against itself never stops. But humans just have the choice whether to fight or not."

She stared at him, wishing she knew what to say.

_Before the sun goes down_

…

"April?" Troy was hesitant to approach his particularly moody sister that evening, once Chad left. The hotshot still had the trouble to adjust to the blue-haired house guest. For the last four years, she had been at boarding school for reasons undisclosed mostly. Now that she was back, nineteen and wily and especially annoying at times, sometimes it was too hard to remember what it was like with no hallway-mate.

She turned around, munching on one of the leftover cookies and extending another toward him. He took it graciously. "What's up?" she asked.

"You like being the center of attention, right?" Here she shrugged with a reasonable nod. "Have you ever been the subject of a fight—but you _didn't_ like it?"

_And is it envy? Should it really make you sick?_

It took a moment for her to think about what he was asking. "Well, Mom and Dad both had different ideas about where to send me after I crashed the car," she suggested frostily. The memories still didn't sit too well with either of them. "They fought for a few days."

He shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean." April waited. "I mean—well Sharpay and Gabriella had a little clash today, evidently, because of me. And I've been meaning to break up with Sharpay lately, and because Gabriella just broke up with Sharpay's brother Ryan, I thought maybe it was time for reconciliation. But now, since I wasted time, Sharpay got all protective and it's… not cool. She acts like I'm property, and I'm not, and Gabriella never treated me that way—"

The oven timer went off and April leaned down to inspect the second batch of cookies. Girls never needed a reason to cook, other than that the dough, heat, and pan was there. "You have a point, little brother?" she asked. Troy looked affronted and she repaired her words. "All I'm saying is get on with it. There's no beating around the bush, I'm not some prosecuting courthouse judge."

_Is now the time that you realize you'd better get out quick?_

"I guess I don't have a point," he mumbled. "I just needed someone to know what I think for once."

April smiled. "Everyone does know what you think, Troy, and look where that's gotten you. I think you need a new perspective, and fast. Take a drive, why don't you?"

_But then you sold your soul for a leading role, so wear it for a while._

…

Principal Matsui was locking the office doors when Gabriella found him in the hall, her hair up in a ponytail and her shoelaces untied. "Why hello, Ms. Montez," the authority figure said politely. "Everything all right? It's nearly six o'clock, I didn't know you were so fond of school, even after the normal day ends." He laughed at his joke and she forced a smile.

"No, sir, I came back today. Listen, I was wondering if I could speak to you."

"Now?" he asked, clearly against this idea.

"Yes, sir, it's sort of urgent," Gabriella replied.

The man looked at his watch and then at his car, distant in the parking lot. "All right, make it concise, and we can discuss it more tomorrow."

She took one breath before letting out that idea to which, surprisingly, Theresa had agreed. "Since I have enough credits and the grades to get me through the next few months," Gabriella explained, "I'd like to graduate high school early."

_And if I can't hear the music and the audience is gone ,_

_I'll dance here on my own._

_And I hope the Lonely Hearts Club Band will play out one last song,_

_Before the sun goes down._


	19. Forget to Remember

A/N: Hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving! I did, the food was especially pleasant, but the family part is hard to adjust. Lots of people somewhat feigned enthusiasm. :) Thanks for listening to that little rant. -love- Desireé

Lizzie- I realized I forgot to mention before that a Voss is like fancy, designer water—it comes in this cylinder-shaped silver bottle and it's the kind of lavish embellishment to a snacks table at some press event. It's expensive, which was why I used it in the context of Sharpay. :)

Chapter Nineteen, Forget to Remember

A week later, Gabriella was completely free of high school. Her mother had been compliant, although hesitant. She reasoned that her daughter would be missing out on a lot, and that there was so much to enjoy for the last few months. But the girl refused to even _consider_ staying, as she signed the papers Principal Matsui nervously presented her. The school counselor had sat with her, as had her teachers. They all seemed surprised at the star pupil's decision, but her confidence rang a clear bell: she wanted this, and badly.

No one, with the exception of Taylor, knew she was leaving. Even Kelsi and Ryan had been left behind—they could find out from someone else. Gossip spread fast enough, what made this time any different? A very, very, very _small_ sliver of Gabriella regretted the fact that Troy was still sick on her last day of school. She wished she could see the look on his face as she walked away from the campus for the last time. There would be satisfaction in this awe he grasped as his eyes watched her.

Plans of a road trip were made when she walked through the door, a leisure girl with her future ahead of her. And while her mother thought she was completely sure of this, Gabriella admitted fear of individuality. What would it be like to have no constant ring of lockers slamming, and people cheering? The house felt hollow, but she put on a smile as her mother hung up the phone. "That was Sue Bolton," she said, and Gabriella felt a feeling of sickness seep through her. Theresa closed her eyes briefly. "No, don't worry, nothing that has to do with that son of theirs you hate so much. But since Jack is on the faculty, he got wind of your early graduation and they just wanted to wish you well."

Her heart was fractured slightly, and she cleared her throat. "Who is 'they?'" she asked tentatively.

"Just Sue and Jack," Theresa said. She frowned slightly, her voice gone but her face perfectly evident of the words, 'Not Troy.'

He didn't care that she was leaving. He didn't even mind that she would never see him again. His heart didn't ache with remorse when he learned that she was moving on to bigger but certainly not better things. How could that be? "Well, I'm going to go pack," she decided, and Theresa clicked her tongue. "I'll just leave Wednesday, your day off. Oh, don't give me that look. I'll be back before your birthday in March. I just think I need to clear my head and start over. I can't do that in the same place, though."

The phone rang again, but Theresa disregarded the jingle. "I know," she sighed with a nod. "But I'll miss you, Gabriella. I truly will."

Tears streaking her face, Gabriella threw her arms around her mother and kissed her cheek promptly. "I'll miss you, too, Mom." She would miss a lot of people.

…

Troy returned to school the next day, fresh like clean laundry and bright-faced, completely unaware there was someone missing. "We need to talk," Chad said as soon as his friend came into view. "Like, now." He reached to pull Troy through the crowd, but the captain shook his head and withdrew.

"No, I have to find Sharpay," he insisted, "I can't wait."

Neither can this, Chad thought sadly. But he nodded and watched the hotshot go, combing through the sea of people, still ignorant of the absence of the brunette with sunny eyes and a graceful smile. Troy waved off people who welcomed him back; now wasn't the time to be friendly. He couldn't give in anymore. Sharpay had him on a leash, and he had to break free. Fuck. That reminded him of that stupid song. Okay, so it wasn't stupid to him, but it wasn't helping his recuperating internal system.

"Troy, man!"

"Yo, T, what up?"

"Nice to have you back with us, Mr. Bolton."

"The king's back!"

The greetings were all different, but it was obvious East High had their all-star again. He smiled halfheartedly at every one of them, uninterested in whatever news they had for him. Sharpay finally appeared in the multitude of students, talking animatedly to one of the drama club members. "Honey!" she exclaimed, "You're back!" She went to kiss him but he ducked, and she smiled with an alarmed face. "What, are you still sick? Aw, I can handle your cooties, baby."

"Stop it," he hissed. "Stop calling me baby, stop trying to kiss me, stop it!" His voice was strong and prominent through the hallway, and heads turned. "I'm done, Sharpay. I know, I know, together forever, blah blah blah. I get what you're trying to do. But it won't work. I'm through with being your pet. Please, don't make this any more painful than it already is with _all these people gawking_—" he glared subtly at the open-mouthed people around them, and they turned away, bashful "—and just tell me the truth. What do you want out of a relationship with me?"

She stared at him, her cheeks flushed and her hair suddenly not as dazzling and her clothes not as enviable. "Nothing that you can give me," she finally said with a white flag-waving exhale. "I've wanted glory all this time, trying to steal it away from someone else. Maybe if I was the prize of your eyes, I'd have all that honor, like she did. But I couldn't take that away from her, I would just have had to get it from you. And you cannot give me that, can you?" As she spoke, her face had been directed toward her lap, her fingers curling and uncurling. Now, she looked up at him with a wish of honesty.

"No," he answered. "I can't." She smiled with a shine in her eyes and shrugged. Troy leaned over and kissed her forehead, before whispering, "I wish I could, but I guess that's just another wish."

The pandemonium cleared, and suddenly Troy and Sharpay were two onesomes, a news that invaded the minds of every East High student that day. It was otherwise just a Tuesday, a very normal afternoon that didn't seem to hold anything special for anyone. But when the all-star went looking for a certain brainiac, Chad finally pulled him aside. "Dude, she's not here," he mumbled. Taylor was a few feet away, watching precariously.

"Is she sick?" Troy asked. Chad shook his head, and the hotshot's heart sank. "She's…" He couldn't finish the sentence. "Where is she?" The slacker waited, biting his lower lip for a minute. Troy persisted, "_Where is Gabriella?_"

The bell rang, the tardy bell soon to come. Taylor pressed a hand onto Chad's back and whispered something his ear as she scooped her books. He nodded and smiled softly before glancing at his friend again. "She left school, Troy. She graduated early—she had the credits, so she just left," he explained, picking up his backpack. "She left yesterday."

Without even saying goodbye, Troy thought listlessly. He swallowed and looked at Chad. "So she's gone?" he asked. "For good?"

The afro-haired boy shrugged. "I don't know," he said, his throat sore. "I got this all from Taylor, but even she hasn't talked to her since yesterday at lunch."

"I guess that whole scene with Sharpay was kind of useless, then."

Chad smiled. "Nah, she was getting on my nerves, anyway." He clapped Troy on the arm and winced with his friend. "You did the right thing."

…

It probably would have upset Gabriella, but Theresa couldn't help it as she opened the door a little wider to let Troy Bolton in. "She's in her room," the woman said softly, gesturing to the stairs. "Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head appreciatively. "Oh, no, Mrs. Montez, you've done too much already." Bracing himself for the staircase, he added under his breath, "And this last thing might just kill me."

Fall Out Boy's 'Thnks Fr th Mmrs' was blaring from a stereo behind the walls. He knocked, and there was no answer. Again, he knocked, a little harder this time. There was a shout from inside the room and he turned the knob, the icily cold brass searing his skin like fire. He gulped and pushed the door forward. Gabriella was laying across her suitcase, desperately trying to zip it up. She looked up expectantly, and he realized she would think he was Theresa. But as soon as his true identity set in, so did the poison of her eyes. "Oh," she said, reaching across to dim the volume of the song. "You got better." There was a disappointment in her voice that suggested she had hoped he had been fatally ill.

"_And I want these words to make things right but it's for wrongs that make the words come to life…"_

Nervous, he laughed, hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Oh, yeah. I have my sister to thank for that," he mumbled with a sheepish smile, dragging his sneaker across the carpet. Little pieces of thread popped up from under the pressure of his foot.

"What a saint," Gabriella said dryly. She wore cargo pants and a sweatshirt, her hair up in a loose ponytail, and yet she still looked beautiful. "Remind me to send my gratitude with a Hallmark card."

Now he was getting irritated. "Look, I'm wasting my time here," he began, turning for the door. She reached out to hold his arm, and he turned to see a changed emotion on her face.

"_One night and one more time, thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great." _Ironic.

"No, no, I'm being a bitch." She tilted her head, hair falling around her face angelically. "I am glad you're better. It's hard to worry about someone but not know what you're worrying about."

"You worried about me?" he teased, and she held her nose up in the air haughtily.

"You'll have more to worry about in a few seconds if you keep that up," Gabriella warned, but he heard the warmth in her voice that was required for a cold winter. "What can do for you?"

A soft sigh slid from Troy's lips. "I just wanted to come say goodbye," he confessed. "I didn't know you were leaving until today, when I got back to school, so it—"

She interrupted him with a half bewildered, half thankful look. "Wait, you _didn't_ know I was leaving?" He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Oh… Well, um, that's good. Yes, good."

"Explanation?" He brushed a strand from her face, his fingertips violating the unwritten rule established between them as he touched her cheek. She withdrew and he hurried to fix this error. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—that was odd, um, sorry—"

Shoulders moved up and down as she turned back to her suitcase, trying to make herself seem busy. "No, don't worry about it. We can't dwell on the past, can we?" At this, Gabriella looked back at him, and she saw he had shrunk against the wall.

"No, we can't," he agreed weakly. There was an awkward pause and Troy cleared his throat. "So, are you, like, going somewhere?" Duh, idiot, he answered himself silently. She's packing.

"Yeah, I was thinking Los Angeles."

"Oh. Well, that's great. You gone for long?"

She shrugged again. "Before March." The song continued, _"He tastes like you, only sweeter."_ Oh, shut up, Fate.

"I broke up with Sharpay," he said quietly. "Today. It started out like a big episode, kind of, I guess. But, um, we both agreed it was time to stop."

"_One night and yeah, one more time. Thanks for the memories, thanks for the memories."_

Finally, she managed to yank the zipper into place, meeting its partner in the middle. Gabriella took a big breath and examined Troy for a distance. He was wiry, but there was clear muscle in his arms and legs, like any athlete. His hair was unbelievably gorgeous, even when he was sweating horribly after practice or a game. And of course, his eyes. The crystal blue gems that all girls loved, whether they were on the other side of the world or right here, in the same room as he was. "That has stopped then," she replied just as quiet, "What will start for you now, Troy?"

He took a step forward. She took a step back. He got the message. "I don't know. Maybe I'll just be on pause for a while." Glancing at her suitcase, Troy forced a smile. "You're starting, though. You're going far, I see."

This time she took a step forward. He stayed in his place. Gabriella hated herself for simply watching her hands snake up around his neck and not doing a single thing. Her leaning against him, he looked at her with those very blue eyes, and said just before their lips met, "You'll go very far."

"_See, he tastes like you, only sweeter…"_

The song said it all: one more night, one more time. One more proof as to why they were the perfect couple, and yet they weren't even together. They weren't _ever_ together, and she found a little injustice in that as he picked her up, her legs around his waist and his arms around her torso.

It was a dangerous idea. Theresa was downstairs, and she could have popped in to check on the pair at any time. But she was a smart woman—she knew what team it was that Ryan played for, she could certainly idealize the _bearings_ of what was happening upstairs. By the time they had felt every single feeling in the world known to mankind, their bodies beneath her sheets again, he pressed his hands against her stomach and whispered, "Don't forget to remember me, Brie." His lips met her collarbone, and she shuddered at the thought of what she was throwing away.

"_One night and one more time, thanks for the memories even though they weren't so great. He tastes like you, only sweeter…"_


	20. California

A/N: I recently wrote a new oneshot, Break My Heart. Would you wonderful folks like to take look at it and, maybe, review? You know the drill, lovelies. :)

Two more chapters? Three more chapters? I'm not, like, totally sure. (Ew, was that a valley girl moment?! Oh my goodness. :P) Let's see. -love- Desireé

Fun fact- Guess what? I met Kaycee Stroh yesterday. We were at a Christmas event and my little sister wanted a picture, so I talked to her for a second and she said she liked my hair. I was like, "Haha, cool."

Chapter Twenty, California

By the time Gabriella was packed and ready to go, she felt sick. Utterly, totally, purely sick. "No," she moaned into the mirror of her bathroom, "This isn't supposed to happen. I'm _not_ supposed to get cold feet. I'm supposed to… I'm supposed to…" She didn't know what it was that she was meant to do. Write a bestseller? Cure cancer? "Marry Troy Bolton?" she asked herself, and her eyes widened. "Gabriella, _stop it_." She took a breath and pressed her hands to her cheeks, the cool skin of her fingers screaming against her hot face. "You do still love him, though."

She would be gone for nearly three months. In that time span, everything will roll on as nature planned, not caring that two young people are being torn apart, much to the secret dismay of the girl. She flattened her hand against her forehead, trying to control a few unruly strands of hair, and jumped when her mother knocked. "Gabriella?" Theresa said through the wooden door. "Honey, you better get on the road. It's almost noon, if you don't get going, it'll be too dark to drive."

Listen to your mother, Gabriella, the girl thought. Don't chicken out and beg her to make you stay. Be strong. "Yeah, Mama, I'll be right out," she called, smoothing out a few more hairs.

There was a pause. "I'll miss you, honey," Theresa sighed, her voice soft and weakening. Gabriella covered her ears and tried to keep those four words from replaying in her head. _Miss you. Love you. See you_. It all had the same beat and rhythm, yet she felt her heart break every single time.

Outside, Theresa kissed her daughter's cheeks twice and drew her hand to the girl's temple, brushing some hair to the side. "Child, you get more and more beautiful everyday. Are you sure you'll be okay on your own? I mean, you know how I feel about you going to the _mall_ by yourself and this is the open road to L.A. You sure you don't need me to go with you?"

It was hard to say no, but Gabriella shook her head anyway. "I'll be fine, Mama," she pledged, hugging the woman. "I promise I'll call you as soon as I get out to Los Angeles—Dad will be there, and he can look after me, I know he's looking forward to seeing me." She felt odd as she waved and opened the car door, pulling the seatbelt across her body and turning the keys in the Escape's ignition. This was it. She was leaving.

But not without a few more goodbyes, she decided as she pulled out of the driveway, blowing air kisses to a weepy mother of hers. Theresa smiled through shiny eyes and Gabriella honked the horn, plowing down the road. She would leave in style, the people of East High watching her gloriously.

It was lunchtime. Principal Matsui had agreed to let the star pupil take one last look at the high school before she left. He patted her shoulder encouragingly as she signed in as a guest in the office. Mrs. Byrd, the clerk, waved at her as Gabriella passed the counter and was beckoned into the principal's office. The man smiled and handed her a poster, artsy and crafty with her name written across the top. "Mrs. Clemmons," he explained, referring the to art teacher, "got all the faculty to make you a goodbye poster. We'll miss you, Ms. Montez."

No one seemed to ever care while she was around, and now that she was leaving, it appeared that people did feel she was worth the time and effort. The girl smiled appreciatively, her eyes beginning to water. Swallowing, she took the poster from his hands and tucked it beneath her arm. "Thank you, sir," she said in a whisper. "Thank you very much. I will miss East High, but I think it's high time I find a new niche." He shrugged, and beamed as she left the office to survey the grounds one final time.

It being lunchtime, she decided to save the cafeteria for last. The hallways were barren, and she couldn't help but glance at her locker one more time. Among the others, this one had nothing inside, no happiness to harbor for a student. The janitor smiled at her as she passed, and Gabriella shivered. No, no, no, she thought. Be _strong_. The classrooms, even the one of Ms. Darbus, held a longing sense inside her as she looked at each. A few had their teachers, most of whom looked at her firmly and said their regrets and farewells, the usual. She would nod at each of them, and move on to the next.

"Gabriella?" The brunette froze to hear a familiar voice, and she turned to see Kelsi, her hand holding her cap to her head as she ran to catch up with her. "You're back!" the lyricist exclaimed. "There were rumors you were leaving! I knew it was just a few absences, you would never leave."

Now that she couldn't escape, Gabriella felt hurt most. She gulped and hugged Kelsi back as the songwriter wrapped her arms around her, before withdrawing and compressing the poster against her body. "Um, I am leaving," she confessed, her head spinning. "I'm not staying, East High doesn't have much more to give me." These were the wrong choice of words as Kelsi frowned and she bit her lower lip in confusion.

"What? But, we're here. Taylor is here, Ryan is here, _Troy_ is here," she insisted, her cheeks beginning to flush with color.

"I know," Gabriella replied patiently, trying to keep those damn tears from coming. "But I think I need some fresher faces, you know? I've had a rough year, it might just be the cure for depression to go on the road."

"You aren't depressed!" Kelsi said accusingly, stomping her foot. "God, Gabriella, you're acting just like Sharpay!" Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened. The brunette in front of her stood with her lips parted slightly, her eyebrows bent. "Oh, Gabriella, I didn't mean it like that."

"No, you didn't," the brainiac replied in a huff, "But it wouldn't matter if you did. I'm _leaving_." She turned on her heel, in the opposite direction of the cafeteria, and when Kelsi was out of sight, she hit the wall, dropping the poster and letting the tears fall. She wasn't acting like Sharpay, was she? No, of course not. That drama queen was an attention seeker, the kind of person you wished could just shut up once in a while. And Gabriella _wasn't_ that.

The Escape itched for her. She felt her hands tug toward her bag, aiming for the keys. She clenched her fists and stood up, still holding the poster close to her heart. This would be, perhaps, the last time she saw the people she knew so well. They deserved one last send off, even if they would be ignorant to her adieu.

Nothing changed. Everyone, in the last forty-eight hours, hadn't been drastically altered, like she expected. Gabriella folded her arms over her chest and twitched her nose, balancing on one leg before she tilted to the side and both feet came crashing to the ground. Life worked like gravity. You could only stay up for so long before you were pulled back down again. She was about to leave when she noticed a missing regular at the jocks table, and a voice behind her. "Brie?"

She flinched. Don't call me that, she begged him silently. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Troy, standing there with his hands in his pockets and his face nearly crippled with melancholy. "I thought you were leaving," he mumbled.

"I am," she replied evenly, trying to hold back anything that might ruin a clean getaway.

"Why are you here, then?" He almost said it in a rude, sputtering way, as if she didn't reserve the right to stick around East High any longer.

"I-I wanted to say goodbye." Gabriella's mouth puckered, and she felt a cold sore forming on the ridge of her upper lip. He stepped forward and rubbed his finger along the swelling.

"Goodbye." And that was all he said before he kissed her. Again.

"Don't," she stammered, stumbling back, nearly tripping over her feet. He looked startled, but the surprise drained from his face as he shrugged.

"Fine." Troy looked down the hallway. "I better go. Have fun in, um, L.A. Don't get caught up in the skinny hype. You look fine the way you are." She blushed.

"Bye, Troy."

"Bye, Brie. Don't forget to remember me when you're famous."

She rolled her eyes, even though her insides were pitting themselves against one another. "You're going to be the famous one, Troy," she called out as he made his way down the hall.

"Nah, I'm just a basketball player. But you, Brie," he replied in the most delicate and sweet voice she had ever come to hear, "You're a star."

A/N: You haven't wasted time with this story, trust me. :) The next chapter will be a songfic, and I _promise_ you'll be happy. -wink wink- Now, off to finish homework. Hope you guys have liked Poster. -love- Desireé


	21. Like a Star

A/N: Okay guys, this is the last chapter, and next is the epilogue. Wow, this story has taken me much longer than anything else, but you guys have been incredible patient. :) So thank you. The lyrics in this chapter are Coldplay's 'Yellow' but they come a little while later. -love- Desireé

Lizzie- Ah, we were at the Hollywood Christmas, er, Santa Parade—I know, lame name. :P Anyway, nah, it was just Kaycee there, she was representing High School Musical 2, but last year I met Corbin Bleu and Ashley Tisdale and Monique Coleman since my sister wanted pictures, so it's like I'm working my way through the cast. :D Maybe one day I'll meet Zac… Oh, and my hair is short and choppy and blonde-borderline brown. That sounds a little funky but yeah, it's like a shaggy pixie cut.

Lucy- May I call you Lucy? I looked on your profile for a name, so I assume this is what you wish to be called? Ah, anyway, wow reading your review nearly knocked me off my chair. I am grateful those words had such a great impact on you. :)

Chapter Twenty-One, Like a Star

_"Nah, I'm just a basketball player. But you, Brie, you're a star."_

The radio seemed to be playing tricks as Gabriella's fingers flew across the buttons, constantly changing stations as an incongruous row of songs played consecutively on every wavelength. Liz Phair's oldie 'Why Can't I?' blared into the Escape's speakers with the singer's whiny but smooth voice, "Why I can't I breathe whenever I think about whenever I think about you? Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?" The driver shivered and tuned the knob. Now Taylor Swift's 'Our Song,' singing the inevitable, "Our song is the slammin' screen doors, sneakin' out late tappin' on your window." Corinne Bailey Rae topped the list, "Just like a star across my sky, just like an angel off the page, you have appeared to my life, feel like I'll never be the same."

"Great," Gabriella mumbled, turning the sound system off completely. Maybe silence was what she needed. Take one breath, in and out, and repeat. She was only having a tiny confidence error, which could be easily fixed. Yes, that was all.

She barely made it another few miles, before her body nearly shut down and she was forced to again pull to the shoulder of the highway. "What do you do now, Brie?" she asked herself. "When you choose to leave, you gain so much responsibility. And that means you can't go running to Mommy this time."

_But you can call Dad_, an eerie voice rang in her head. She picked up her cell phone and swallowed. She was hardly out of Albuquerque, it was a silly notion for him to come get her. He picked up on the second ring, and she cleared her throat promptly. "Daddy, it's me, Gabriella."

"Honey!" he exclaimed. "You on the road? Oh, I'm so glad you're coming out here. What's up? Out of gas or something? Chevron's your best bet, it's got the best service out there, if I remember correctly." Christian was a good man with good intentions and even better ideas, but there was always a point in time where your family's flaws could be so barefaced and flagrant.

"Daddy, I'm just only out of Albuquerque." Gabriella voice reduced to a quiver as she whimpered, "I don't know who I was kidding when I suggested I drive out there. Can you fly out here, maybe? And we'll drive together, or something?" She could hear the silent hesitation of the other line, but this was desperate times, which called for desperate measures. "Not right away, I don't want to launch some big responsibility on you, but um… I can't do this by myself."

A sigh blasted her ear, and she pursed her lips in frustration. This was just like her father. "Okay," Christian agreed after a while. Gabriella felt the weights on her shoulders lift. "I'll come out," he said, "Next week. How does that sound?"

_Next week?_ When she said 'not right away,' she was thinking maybe tomorrow or the day after. But a whole seven days was a very, very long period of time. Especially when Troy had left her with those very haunting words. Seven days gave her too much leeway, too much time to reconsider this brash action. The convenience of leaving town and living with her father for a while was that Gabriella didn't have to think about it. She would just do it. Now that plan was slipping from her grasp like sand in the wind. "Yes, Daddy," she said. "That sounds fine. Thanks."

He smiled, she knew, despite the fact she could not see his face. "I'll call you tomorrow, all right? It's not too dark, I hope—call your mother to tell her you're coming home."

Damn. She was hoping he wouldn't mention anything like going home. "S-sure," Gabriella replied, "I'll call her now."

"Bye, Ella. Love you, hope to see you soon, okay?"

"Okay, Dad. Bye."

_Click_. Dead air.

…

Theresa had seemed none too surprised when Gabriella appeared around dinnertime, half-flushed and nearly in tears. "It gets so dark so _soon!_" she cried as she rushed into her mother's arms. The woman cooed in a besotted tone, her lips tugging at her to smile.

"Oh, Gabriella," she said in a motherly tone for which Gabriella had longed during the short time on the road, "You're home for now." Theresa had the feeling the girl wouldn't stick around for long, and she grimly found herself to be correct when Gabriella explained Christian would come get her soon. "Oh. Your father's coming out. Well, I'll have to clean up the house then, won't I?"

At this, Gabriella shrunk back against the couch, holding her hot chocolate protectively. She wondered what it was like to be divorced, to wake up to an empty side of the bed every day. Maybe the pain subsided after a while, and bitterness replaced it. That's how she was with Troy, she realized. But something screamed at her, declaring there was still time left. "There's always time," she whispered, and Theresa glanced at her.

"Something on your mind, Gabriella?" she asked with an interested smirk.

Shaking her head, Gabriella suddenly felt angry. Not at Theresa, not at herself, but at Troy. Déjà vu, because she had been so furious with him many times in recent months, but now she incandescently irate. This was his fault. Every time he popped into her thoughts, his blame became more and more credible. If he hadn't been so horribly _Casanova_ on her with those stupid last words about being a star and everything, she wouldn't have broken down on the highway and she wouldn't be back in this stuffy little town with clenched fists and an irregular breathing pattern. "Whoa, calm down, child. You're going to hyperventilate," Theresa warned, reaching across the couch to rest her hand on Gabriella's knee. "What on earth is wrong?"

"_Troy!_" Gabriella retaliated apoplectically. "He's always what's wrong. God, where is he, anyway? Where is that stupid… _Ugh!_"

Glancing at an imaginary watch on her wrist, Theresa closed one eye for a minute, as if to get a clearer image of her daughter. "Well, I would imagine he would be home by now. It's nearly seven o'clock, people are usually sitting down to dinner around this time," she said, her voice flat like the robotic time lady's. "You have something you need get off your chest?"

"He's so…" Gabriella found herself at a loss for words, until, "freaking cute!" exploded from her mouth. Theresa burst out laughing and her daughter glared at her trenchantly.

"What? Oh, you cannot blame me for thinking this young romantic turmoil is just adorable," the woman defended herself with a sly smile. "And it's obvious you two are the Golden Couple—I mean, pretending you were actually _together_—so this little turbulence just makes me smile. Reminds me of younger days, when I was chasing guys and running from them and everything in between."

This was no help whatsoever. Gabriella was wheezing now, her head dry and her mouth numb—wait, that wasn't it. Mouth dry and head numb? Yes, that was how it went. Still there was no difference in how she felt, it was all the same result: she wanted to see Troy. "I have… Been up and down… This stupid poignant roller… Coaster… With him…" She could barely breathe, and her mother cautioned her to calm down.

"You look ready to faint," Theresa said worriedly. "Why don't you go rest up? I'll come check out you later with a sandwich, and some iced tea, your favorite kind. But you need sleep, I think."

No other available logic to aid her, Gabriella nodded and stood up slowly, trying to steady herself as she made her way to her bedroom. The bed soaked her with a demonstrative touch that she couldn't believe she was ready to forgo. She let her mind dull down to a fluttery slumber, rocking back and forth as she fell into Dreamland.

Whoever invented the idea of 'sleep' deserved a hug.

_Six days pass successfully, but there is a tugging feeling inside Gabriella by the seventh day._

The first six days were much like the biblical myth of how God created the world. Gabriella found herself working steadily, cleaning up the house and cleaning out the old junk she no longer needed, nor did Theresa. But the seventh day, also known as Sabbath, was the climax to her long-spent term of thinking about Troy.

It was late, another Wednesday night, when she was going through her things again, the stuff she had deemed inappropriate to take with her to California. So many pictures and notes scribbled in class and memoirs and posters that had beautiful meaning somewhere across their marks and swirls and glittery spots. She carefully maneuvered herself around things that would be reminiscent of Troy, although Theresa 'accidentally' brought up the Boltons that evening when they were enjoying TV dinners in front of what else? The television.

"You talked to Taylor at all this past week?" the woman asked, stabbing her microwaved macaroni with her fork.

Gabriella stared at the TV screen. Another sitcom, hoping to be accepted into the competitive world of champions like _Friends_ and _Everybody Loves Raymond_. Life was a sitcom, she decided then. "No," she responded quietly. "I decided not to attract any more attention to myself than I already have. They all think I'm in L.A. by now."

There was a pause, and Theresa laid her fork down across the plastic tray, inattentively regarding the mashed potatoes in the corner of the platter. "Oops," she murmured.

"What?" Gabriella didn't love the tone of Theresa's voice.

"Well… I mentioned your, um, _temporary_ return, here. To Lillian. Bolton," she added, as if there were so many Lillians in Gabriella's life. "And, um, Jack, too. I'm sure April and Troy know."

So much for staying discreet. "Thanks, Mom," Gabriella mumbled. "Now I…" She felt tears crowd in her eyes, like there was a sudden incentive to be sad, and there was, now that she thought about it. Tomorrow she would be leaving, and the words of _But you, Brie, you're a star_ still swam through her veins like the required blood her body demanded.

"Child, it's late. Tomorrow, I think your father is planning to come early and hopefully you'll leave quickly," Theresa snuck the bitter comment in and Gabriella closed her eyes, "without dragging on the courtesy words and all that jazz. So why don't you take a shower and just get ready for tomorrow? I'm sure if you can't sleep we can find a movie to watch, but I think you'll be better off with a good night's rest for the road back to California."

More déjà vu. Theresa was so insistent on sleep; it was like Gabriella was a walking ad for Lunesta. "Okay," she said, deciding not to argue, "Night, Mom."

But even after the shower, even after washing her face and brushing her teeth and combing her hair and listening to some old mixed tracks from her middle school years, nothing felt better. If possible, the ache in Gabriella was just worse. And however painful it was to admit it, Troy looked like the only cure.

It was eleven-thirty by the time she finally agreed with herself on going over to the Bolton house. _Your father is planning to come early_. This was now or never. "Always with the drama," Gabriella mumbled, slinging on her jacket and picking up her cell phone. Theresa was asleep in her room across the hall, and Gabriella taped a message to the bedside lamp in case the sometimes paranoid mother woke up to her child's lack of existence.

The dark had a bad effect on Gabriella as she gripped the steering wheel and coughed a few times in the cold Escape, waiting for it to warm up as she drove toward Troy's place. Every stretch of pavement, every stop sign to which she obeyed even with the deserted streets, every inch of earth she drove across seemed to keep slipping her back toward the Montez residence. It was late, and anything could have happened in a week. Maybe he got a girlfriend. _No, he couldn't have_, answered the voice inside her. "Well, he probably doesn't want to see me," she suggested.

_He does, you know that as well as anyone does._

"He's probably asleep," Gabriella ascertained.

_Boys in love don't sleep, ever. Some call it a disorder, but Troy calls it a privilege._

"He doesn't love me." Even Gabriella could hear the dishonesty in her words.

_Yes, he does. There's a reason he called you a star._

"Oh," was all she could manage.

_Yes, oh._

Now that she was actually in front of the Bolton house, her eyes staring at the lit window in the top left hand corner, her hands loosening their grasp on the car's wheel, Gabriella wondered why she had been so detestable toward Troy this year. Everything he did was for her. Natasha and Rory and Sam. The dates. The kisses. The truths she hadn't realized existed. But he had also left her with an agonizing choice, a _guilt_. "Stupid idiot," she said bleakly.

She sat in the car for maybe half an hour, before it began to rain, and the car was foggy to the point where she could barely see past the few feet of brightness the headlights gave. The door opened to the house, and she felt her heart stop.

Troy stood, and waited. He knew. She swallowed and got out of the car, her head knowing exactly what to say, when her heart begged to differ. "You bastard," she spat, and her heart wrenched in half at these words. Mind over matter, she pleaded herself.

"What now?" he asked through the rain, coming down to meet her. He looked cold, in a matter of emotions, not physical warmth. In fact, even in a simple t-shirt and boxers, Troy looked better than ever. Gabriella weakened at this. He was better off without her.

_Look at the stars, look how they shine for you._

"Do you know how much… How much… _Hurt_ I have suffered for the last week?" she said crossly, trying to leak as much venom from her mouth as possible. "You couldn't bear to leave me at peace, could you? You _had_ to tell me I was a star, and how I should remember you one day when I was famous."

He stared past her, although she knew very well that the nightly overcast weather would make it difficult to see anything. "_Troy_," Gabriella hissed, and he blinked, meeting her glacial stare. "I want to know why you couldn't just leave it at the stupid sex we had the night before. Why you couldn't—"

"Stupid?" he inquired impassively, crossing his arms over his chest. By now, they were both soaked, though a little moisture wasn't enough to break their brazen fronts. "Well, sorry, Gabriella, I wouldn't have wasted my time if that's all you thought it was."

_And everything you do, yeah they were all yellow_

She swallowed, unprepared for this remark. "That's not what I meant," she replied, her cheeks going scarlet despite the morbid nature condition. "I just want to know why you had to…" She searched for the right term. "_Psych_ me out. Didn't you think maybe we could just be at a peaceful close? Nothing too sappy or 1950s-romantic movie ending?"

He smiled, and she squirmed. Why was Troy _smiling?_ "I didn't know you'd get so freaked by it," he said, rocking on his bare feet. "I just said what I felt. Isn't that what Dr. Seuss said?"

A puddle in the lawn had distracted her, and Gabriella's neck snapped as she looked up. "What?"

"You know, 'Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those you matter don't mind.'" Troy smoothed one side of her hair and she shivered at the trace of that soul she loved. "I was who I was and I said what I felt. Do you mind?"

_I came along, I wrote a song for you_

"No," she whispered. "I don't." He waited, knowing there was more to come. "But I hate that you said it anyway. For the last seven days, I have been shredding myself to pieces because I kept thinking about what you said."

For a moment, Troy looked up at the sky, and suddenly, the rain cleared. No more clouds, no more drops, nothing but the moon beating down upon their shoulders. "Well, I didn't mean for it to be so… Annoying," he replied.

"But that's not how it works, Troy!" she pointed out. Gabriella took a breath and tugged on her jacket, which was of little use because she was soaked to the bone anyway. "You're not supposed to leave me with the feeling of poison, like I wasn't doing the right thing. I'm supposed to feel confident about where I'm going, and what that destination has for me. But, because of you, I wasn't."

_And all the things you do, and it was called yellow_

Exasperation was spreading across Troy's face. "You don't _get_ it, Gabriella," he said quietly. She looked at him with a vexed curiosity. "You don't get that I don't mean to psych you out, or mess with your head, or make you feel unconfident. If anything, I meant the very opposite. I meant to give you the lasting impression of a flame that burns forever in my heart, one that flickers and lights up my mind for you despite the fact that you may and probably will move on."

"But, Troy," she began, and he cut her off once more.

"No, don't interrupt." She quieted down. Troy relaxed his shoulders as he looked up again. "You can't accept the fact that I will always love you, and I'll tell you that whenever I get the chance, because truth is a very rare thing in this world. That's partly my fault, but one can't dwell on the past." Gabriella found herself smiling at this quote.

_So then I took my turn, oh what a thing to have done, and it was all yellow_

"But I'm _leaving_ Troy. You just had to make it so freaking painful."

"Like it wasn't for me?" He forced a smile, and she asked herself if coming here was the right thing to do.

"I'm not saying it wasn't painful—"

"But you're _implying_ that you had to go through more discomfort than me."

Gabriella suddenly felt the heaviness of her saturated clothing, the heaviness of Troy's gaze, the heaviness of the world. Something was slowing pushing her down, and she was trying to fight back up.

_Your skin, oh your skin and bones, turn into something beautiful_

"Maybe you'll never get it," Troy said gently, "And I guess that's okay, because you're going to L.A. and I'm waiting around here for something to begin, or _end_, maybe. But look up for me."

Gabriella raised an eyebrow, and he took her chin in the tips of his fingers, tilting her head back so her eyes met the blackboard above them. "See all those stars?" he asked.

She knew where this was going. "Yes."

"Those are your stars, Gabriella," he said solemnly. "Don't you get that?"

_You know, you know I love you so. You know I love you so._

The heaviness was beginning to exhaust her, and she felt her body yearn for a bed. "Troy, I don't know why I came," she confessed, looking back at him. He was patient, his face absolutely rid of emotion. "I don't even know if there's a point in this argument."

"I do." His hand in hers, they walked around the side of the house, and she abruptly wondered if he would go to school tomorrow after being up so relatively late.

"Troy—"

"_Gabriella_." Scolded like a child, she slumped and followed him acquiescently.

"Lie down," he said, falling back against the ground until his head lay to the cold basketball court and he stared up at the sky again. She took a spot next to him, trying to keep her arm from pressing against his. "Now, what do you see?"

"Stars," she answered.

_Your skin, oh your skin and bones, turn into something beautiful. You know for you I'd bleed myself dry—for you I'd bleed myself dry._

"Okay, what else?" he asked.

"The Big Dipper?"

"Do you know where it is or do are you just saying that because you know it's there?" Troy sounded like she knew what she was going to say.

"I know it's there," Gabriella said.

He smiled and turned so his arm crossed her stomach and his lips were close to her cheek. "Maybe we can't always see the flame I mentioned earlier," he whispered, "but I know it's there, so I told you about it anyway."

And as she turned to kiss him, giving up on all resistances she had bared for so long, Gabriella knew Christian would be very mad tomorrow when he learned she wouldn't be converting to the Californian way.

_Look at the stars, look how they shine for you and all the things that you do_


	22. An End Has a Start

A/N: This is it! Oh, I'm so thankful you guys stuck with me. Poster, above all my other stories, has been the longest (in a matter of duration, not length) so you guys have been the greatest to stay by me all this time. I hope you have enjoyed Poster Child, a love story with a few too many main characters. :) Now, I noticed too late that it had, like, no climax. So I take the time to thank you for not pointing this out or anything. Anyway, thank you _so_ much guys! -love- Desireé

P.S. If anyone had seen my Twoshot 'The Meaning of Forever,' I ended up deleting it only because it had very little use and I just needed to get something published while I struggled to neatly tie up Poster. Thanks again!

P.S.S. Look out for the return of Thirteen Years Without You, coming either Sunday or sometime next week. :)

Chapter Twenty-Two, An End Has a Start

After an especially dramatic re-introduction to the life she had hoped to leave behind, Gabriella found herself getting back to normal. Her smile appeared more often, her energy never drained, and there wasn't one other person in the world who could have possibly been more in love than she was. Maybe she was just lucky like that. Maybe Troy was too much of a catch to resist. Maybe there didn't have to be so many maybes in the world. She liked the last one best.

When Christian arrived in Albuquerque only to find his daughter would be staying, he had been rather steamed. Somewhere, though, in the mess of it all, he had gotten around to speaking to Theresa again and their words were not of scorn nor contempt, but simple _happiness_. Gabriella smiled. So they weren't getting back together any time soon—but she could take what she got.

While her parents recuperated over a rocky past, she found herself spending more time at the Bolton house with April and Sue, helping as much as she could, acting like an antsy little child, waiting for Troy to return home. They disappeared whenever he dropped his bags at the front door, and after Mrs. Bolton got over the fact that 'her little boy was growing up' with some encouragement from April and Jack, the family got used to having Gabriella around the house every day. "You're like our second daughter," they joked one night at dinner. She flushed and Troy kicked her gently from across the table. She looked up and her insides flittered. Those blue eyes never got old.

At school, she sometimes stopped by to volunteer, and most everyone had gotten over the awkwardness of her being an aide rather than a student. Sharpay so helpfully pointed out that intimate faculty-student were against school board rules when Troy and Gabriella had begun to make out one day during free period, which resulted in some anxious desires to get home at the end of the day. She smiled as he carried her upstairs one evening, ignoring the sentimental gaze they received from Sue. "We're in love," he mumbled against her mouth as she ran her fingers through his hair. "So sue us."

Graduation Day came much more quickly than they had expected. Gabriella, whose newfound housewife skills were a slightly warped turn on for Troy, promised to attend the ceremony with her family and the Boltons, however her class had much different idea in mind.

As soon as their car arrived in the parking lot, Martha took her hand and dragged her to the changing rooms, while Gabriella repeatedly asked where they were going. "You'll see," replied the hip-hop enthusiast. This was certainly no help.

The mutual-gender powder room had been transformed into a crazy soiree of color and balloons and streamers and confetti and everything else at Party America. A sign stretched across the back wall, reading, _Welcome Back, Gabriella!_ She gasped and dropped her purse, stumbling back a bit before she felt a tender hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Troy, a crooked smile on his face. "We missed you," he said in a whisper. Their lips met for a brief moment before Chad hollered for them to get a room. Taylor smirked on his arm and winked at her best friend. It was good to be back.

The surprises, however, didn't end there. Kelsi appeared, holding a graduation gown on a hanger with the cap to go with it. "For you," she told Gabriella, her face swimming with giddiness. "Principal Matsui agreed that you could graduate with us." The dark-haired girl gaped for a moment, before turning to her boyfriend, who nudged her along benevolently, murmuring something about her deserving it.

"But I've left, I'm not—" she stammered as Kelsi thrust the gown into her hands. "Guys, it's really nice of you but—"

"Oh, just put the damn thing on," came a voice from the crowd of seniors. People turned and saw Sharpay toward the back, arms folded and legs crossed as she slanted against a chair. For a moment, tension rose, before the drama queen broke out in a smile and nodded. "You do deserve it, Gabriella."

There was a somewhat _nice_ tone in her voice, which made Gabriella grin. Troy pointed to the dressing rooms down the hallway, and people began to fall back into place in line, where the vice principal would soon be checking to make sure all was well. Applause flooded the room when Gabriella returned, in her ill-fitting gown and too-small cap. "I look like a dork," she giggled. The Golden Boy put his arm around her and kissed her head softly.

"I don't mind it so much," he mumbled, "although I prefer the gown off." She rolled her eyes and smacked his arm lightly, although it was easy to see she enjoyed the somewhat boyish compliment.

As the vice principal began to shuffle out-of-order students, Troy brought Gabriella with him to the front, saying she didn't have a specific place since she had, technically, 'already graduated.' "So that stage is waiting for us," he breathed into her ear. "I never knew it had us in mind to begin with, but that audition was probably the most fun I've ever had. Good memories, too bad it's ending."

She shrugged, feeling his hands sliding up and down her back subconsciously. "Every end has a start," Gabriella said, tilting her head so he looked at her with an upside-down smile.

"You always know the right thing to say," he sighed enviously, brushing her bangs aside.

"How about kiss me?" she asked with innocent, round eyes.

"There you go again," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her lips.

_August of that year…_

The sun felt good against her shoulders, like her skin were solar panels, absorbing the energy with a natural grace that some called a tan. They had an entire year ahead of them, waiting to be enjoyed. Next to her, Troy sat, one hand on the wheel and one hand over hers, a small sign to show he was there for her no matter what. Gabriella's phone rang in her purse on the floor of Christian's convertible, and she reached down to see who the caller was. "It's Taylor—and probably Chad, too," she presumed with a grin. "They're, like inseparable now."

He readjusted the rear view mirror and took in the not-so-clean, yet oh-so-fresh Los Angeles air, glancing at her with a twinkle in his eye that read _Like us_. She made a face and answered, "Hello?"

"Gabi, where are you guys now?" Taylor asked, a giggle slipping from her mouth. "_Chad, stop_," she chirruped in a high voice for second. "We're looking on MapQuest right now, this thing is so cool! I can't believe I've never been on this site be—Chad!"

"We've, uh, just passed the city limits," Gabriella answered, squinting slightly at the clock radio. "Four-thirty. Hmm, we actually made good timing. L.A. isn't too bad so far—not that I've been in it for more than a few minutes."

Chad took over the phone, much to the giggly alarm of Taylor. "Hey, I heard like every corner has a Starbucks. Is that true? Do you see and green and white logo buildings yet? I bet people have personal baristas and coffee makers and stuff like that. That's how L.A. people are," he said frivolously, as if he had been there before.

"How do you know what a barista is?" Taylor chuckled in the background.

"I'm not _completely_ inept," Chad shot back, his voice hinting amusement and offense at the same time.

"Not completely," Taylor said seductively, and the call ended. Gabriella sighed with a smile and dropped her phone back into her purse, only for it to ring again. She groaned, seeing her mother's name on the screen, and finally, after a quick and dramatic breathing exercise that got a laugh out of Troy, answered again.

"Gabi!" slurred her mother. "_Soooo_ glad you picked up. Your papa and I are guess where?" She didn't wait for Gabriella to answer as she finished, "New York!" She cackled happily, and added, "We just got here after driving up from Harrisburg."

Harrisburg, Gabriella thought warmly. What a cool name. "Oh, good, Mom, glad you guys get to see the Big Apple. We're just getting into L.A. right now," she replied. "Enjoy your time with Dad, okay? And, um, don't get into too much trouble, we're pretty far away, we can't come bail you out or anything." A part of her was joking, but another part of her was precariously trying to decipher the reason of her mother's unusually giddy and loose words.

The phone call ended, only to be replaced by another one. Gabriella stared at the screen, and Troy asked, "What?"

"I think it's _your_ parents," she replied, reciting the number. Troy nodded. She grimaced. "Yes, it's your parents."

He smirked. "What? They're not _that_ bad."

"It could the Pope calling, and I still wouldn't care because it's keeping me from _you_," she said, mildly jabbing a finger into his arm. He made a face and she curtsied triumphantly before answering, "Hello?"

"Gabriella!" boomed Jack Bolton's voice. "We just wanted to know how you were taking care of our son out there. Angelinos treating you right?"

She smiled. He would be a good father-in-law. "I don't know yet, we're only on the highway right now. We passed the city limits sign a little while ago—I think I just saw the first Starbucks. And then a Coffee Bean."

"Two different coffee shops, next to each other?" Sue Bolton intervened pleasantly. "How peculiar. Is Troy a good driver? We were so nervous about him getting his license when he was sixteen, I thought for sure he would total a car any day now."

A look of annoyance flared across Troy's face as Gabriella put her cell on speaker phone. "Mom, it's _fine_. Please, let us enjoy our first smoggy inhales of Los Angeles air and we'll call you later, okay?" he said, but a third voice joined the parents.

"Uh-uh, not before you said goodbye to me, little brother," twittered April's voice. "Take care of Gabriella, all right? You got, like, a thousand chances, you better not screw this one—"

"_April!_" Troy interrupted, and Gabriella saw his cheeks gain a stain of red. "Please, can we hang up now? We'll call you later, I promise."

The blue-haired girl chortled lightly. "Fine. But still, take care of her, because if you guys get in a fight again we'll seriously take Gabriella instead of—"

"Goodbye," Troy said in a quick sneer as he pressed 'end.' Next to him, Gabriella was laughing, and he glared playfully. "It's _not_ funny."

"Yeah, it is," she giggled, "and you know it."

As they drove further into the City of Angels, Gabriella couldn't help but feel empty as she thought of one phone call they _hadn't_ received. Sure, they weren't the best of friends, certainly not during the year and perhaps even not after graduation, but there was _some_ common understanding between them that would require a bon voyage call, she thought. Troy noticed the injured look in her eyes and nudged her. "You okay, Brie?" he asked. She nodded as she drummed her fingers on her knee.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Which hotel are we staying in?" He noticed the subject change, but said nothing of it and instead replied with The Roosevelt. "Good. That means it's not very far. God, my legs are so asleep. Let's order room service tonight, I feel like staying in." She grinned and he grinned back.

The hotel clerk must have had the wrong impression when Troy and Gabriella first approached the desk. "Oh, aren't you two _precious_," the older woman gushed, clasping her hands. "Here with your parents? It's always nice to see families on vacation, those tripod things just get in the way and make youngsters like you so antisocial."

The teenagers gaped at her for a moment, before Troy shook his head. "Actually, ma'am, we're here by ourselves," he replied, sliding his arm around Gabriella's waist.

The woman smiled and squinted, clearly incomprehensive. "Oh, so you kiddies are going to get your _own_ room," she said, "well, that must have been a family decision, hm? My grandchildren are always fighting, my daughter Clementine always has to separate them or they'll probably pull each other's hair out!"

Before Troy could correct the woman again, Gabriella elbowed him gently and spoke animatedly to the clerk, "Yeah, well, we try to get as long as best as we can. Mom and Dad are really proud of us, we like to carry a good rep for the family."

The clerk nodded, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her narrow nose. "Last name, sweetie?" she asked Troy.

"Bolton," he replied, smiling as politely as possible. Gabriella patted his cheek and turned to their suitcases, which were being loaded onto a bellboy cart. He leaned toward her. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." Pause. "We're really here," she sighed. "I didn't think it was possible, but we did it."

He smiled and said, "'Course we did," before kissing her cheek, which again made the desk clerk rhapsodize in utter affection.

…

In the elevator, Troy expressed his exasperation over the clerk's uncertainty over their relationship. "Brother and sister?" he derided, cracking a knuckle. "We look nothing alike! We're freaking _eighteen_. What eighteen-year-olds still go on family vacations? They always turned out horrible when we were younger anyway, so why would we, legal adults, choose to participate again?"

She snickered and brushed his hair to one side, looking at his eyes with a heartfelt smile. "Well, maybe she was thinking about the future. I will be real family one day… Won't I?"

He swallowed, wondering if she was implying what he _thought_ she was implying. "You mean like you are with us, now?" Troy felt his hands begin to sweat. "Uh, of course, Brie."

She bit her lower lip and turned toward the elevator buttons, glaring at the particular floor nine one. "Sorry I brought it up."

He grumbled. April wouldn't be happy about this. Unless he fixed it right away—and he was Troy Bolton, wasn't he?

…

After they unpacked (Christian and Theresa would return in a few weeks, and the teenagers would move in with them), Gabriella had ordered some pasta and soda from downstairs. Troy drew her toward the bed, kissing her softly before they head a knock. He groaned, and she smiled, answering the door to a maid who had fresh towels. When she left, the brunette glanced at her boyfriend. "Apologies," she murmured sweetly as she crawled up next to him.

Their making out was short-lived, as Gabriella frowned and pulled away from him. He swallowed and looked in her direction. "Are you _sure_ you're all right?"

"Sharpay hasn't called us," she whined, folding her arms over her chest.

"And?" Troy asked, picking up a lock of her hair and weaving it through his fingers. "Don't you, like, hate her? _Shouldn't_ you hate her?"

"We're not friends or anything," Gabriella said, sitting up, "but it's like, we have an acquaintance. It's that formal code for _some_ sort of goodbye, sayonara, adios, cheers, toodle-oo?"

He moved next to her and kissed her jaw, but she still didn't respond with anything but a sigh. "_Gabriella_," Troy said patiently, although he had other things on his mind than a certain drama queen, "I'm sure she's thought of you at one point or another this summer, but I'd let it go if I were you. I mean, she kind of effed up our senior year."

"Why is it now that you always know the right thing to say?" she simpered, sliding her arms around his neck. Their lips were about to meet when there was another knock.

"Shit," Troy hissed restlessly. He slid off of Gabriella and trudged toward the door, answering disagreeably, "Yeah?"

A hotel staff member held forth an envelope and nodded silently, vanishing down the hallway as Troy stared down at the writing. 'Gabi and Troy' was all it said.

"What is it?" Gabriella appeared behind him, and she took the envelope promptly from his hands to not bother with speculation and simply tear the seal on the back. A blank white card was revealed, with the printed words _Thank you_ on the front. She opened it, and a picture fell out. "'To the Lovey-Dovey Couple—we had a weird year, but it turned out okay in the end. Hope you're living it up in the city. Lots of love, the Evans twins.'" Bending down to see the photo, Gabriella grinned. It was the cliffside, the one that Ryan had shown her the night of the Welcome Dance. There stood an all grown up Ryan and Sharpay, smiling sincerely and waving to the camera. They were happy.

"See?" Troy said, kissing Gabriella's cheek again, his arms shrouding her so she lifted off the ground. "They're there, too. Everyone is. And we're _here_, in this big bedroom with our clothes still on and an entire eighteen days ahead of us for sightseeing and shopping and all the girly stuff you like to do." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"You're such a guy." She giggled. He started to backtrack toward the bed before Gabriella hummed and ran her thumb over the fair-skinned faces in the photo. "Sometimes I'm jealous. She's such an acme girl, a _poster child_, if you will," the brainiac said softly. "I mean, I'm not saying this is all useless stuff and I'd be better off in her shoes, but there are some days where I wonder if all that time you dated her, there were reasons. Like she had something I didn't."

The sports allstar sat on the edge of the bed, beckoning her to his lap. "Gabriella Montez," he whispered in her ear, "You have everything she doesn't, and more. You are beautiful, you are bright, you are mine. And you're the poster child, you always have been."

Dropping the photograph onto the floor, Gabriella turned to face him and smile. "Maybe not always," she said, "but pretty damn close. I did, after all, get the Golden Basketball Hotshot as a boyfriend, right? And I graduated early, and I was a big sibling to two children, and I volunteered a lot—" 

He interjected with a kiss and a smug smile. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're perfect. I think I liked it better when you just mentioned your hotshot boyfriend," he mumbled, and she laughed. "So, I was thinking about earlier. I didn't mean to delay the idea until now, but the sound of a Poster Child and Basketball Pro makes me heard wedding bells. What do you think?"

Like any boy would, Troy happily got his answer when Gabriella kissed him.

A/N: That took me so long! I'm really so grateful for your reviews, if this last one could be an overall review, I'd appreciate it. You guys are the best! Look out for Thirteen, coming soon. -love- Desireé


End file.
